Metal and Clay
by JuhFreak
Summary: When Zeta and Ro are driven apart, Ro must discover if she can save her friend, if he even existed, and how her existence fits into this mess. FINISHED!
1. Introduction

Algorithm #29: Metal and Clay

**Written by:** J'Freak

**Rating:** PG – violence, imaginary swear words

**Song:** "Fallen" by Tait

_She's a wreck,  
Fragile and scarred.  
Life is work,  
And living is hard.  
She's tired of the pain,  
Tired of the fix.  
She's tired of the games,  
And the politics._

_She's running on empty.  
She wants  
An alternate ending..._

_She can feel  
The weight of the past.  
It drags her down  
But she's fighting back.  
She wants to fly  
Far away from here.  
She wants a God  
That won't disappear._

_She's all out of chances.  
She is  
Looking for answers…_

_And she's falling…  
She's falling in love with You.  
She's so hopeless…  
She's hopelessly drawn to You._

_The sun is on the rise.  
A new day's coming.  
You see it in her eyes.  
She's running  
Head long into the light.  
Let the new day come._


	2. Two Golems

**DAKOTA CITY**

**SEWERS**

On the night in question, it was raining hard, the storming sky filled with lightning and thunder. Under the street, a pair of figures huddled next to a drainage pipe. They were obviously wet and cold, but made no sound, nor complained about the smell of the water that gushed past them.

The girl sneezed suddenly. Her companion looked at her. Then his chest opened, unfurling for a warm light that glowed from within. She huddled near to it, taking some comfort.

Still, they remained silent, and the light remained dim.

"I no longer believe Krick is near," said Zeta, presently.

"Jerk," Ro muttered, referring to the bounty hunter who had been on their tail for three straight days. He no longer wanted a bounty, but only to reduce Zeta to a pile of scrap, an example of what happened to anyone who crossed Roden Krick.

"He's only hurting himself," Zeta reassured her, trying to put Ro at ease.

That seldom worked.

"I hope he rots," she retorted. "And I hope his metal half rusts. _What_ was that he called you!"

"Only a golem."

"Dreg!" she spat. "What does that even mean?"

Were he human, and had he a mouth at the moment, Zeta would have smiled. "It's only a metaphor, Ro. Slightly flawed, but with an element of truth."

"Explain," Ro snarled. "And use plain English."

Zeta closed the compartment in his chest, though the glow still filtered through a bit. Actually, his whole being started glowing in the darkness, until the light became a force field, and the force field became the simulation of a handsome young man in his early twenties. Mimicking the humans he had observed, Zeta lifted one arm and drew Ro close to his chest, so that she could still feel the warmth radiating from his power units.

"It is a legend that originated four hundred years ago," he said, "in a country formerly known as Czechloslovakia. There lived a Jewish rabbi named Rabbi Loew, also known as the Great Rabbi, because he was so tall. In the city of Prague, there were many poor people who were mistreated, especially the Jews. The rabbi wished that they did not have to work so hard. He thought of the stories his father had told him about a being of clay who would do the work of the people. He studied ancient writings to learn how to make such a being. And the golem was formed.

"At first, the golem was a great success. He did whatever he was told. He guarded the city at night, putting the people at ease, and he could learn any task that the rabbi taught to him; but soon, being able to read books and watch other people, the golem grew restless and jealous of the people's freedom. He wanted to be like them. So one day, he rebelled. He ran out of the rabbi's house in broad daylight and, in a rage, threw rocks and bricks at the people. The people were afraid. Eventually, they formed a mob and chased him."

"Did they catch him?" asked Ro, feeling sympathy for the golem. She was amazed by how similar its situation was to theirs.

"No," Zeta said. "He could run much faster than they. The golem was never seen again."

Ro didn't like that part. It seemed like a bittersweet ending.

"Krick made a very good metaphor, as far as human metaphors go."

"You mean it was flawed?" Ro asked dryly.

"The golem was made of clay. That makes it very similar to human. I am made of metal, and I do not feel as people do; I did not rebel because I envied humans, but because I did not want to be like them--- killers, as my creators were through me." He saw Ro was about to argue. "They were mistakenly killing each other. I could not participate in that. I rebelled to be separate from humans, Ro. While your people are fascinating, and while it is built into me to love studying and mimicking them, were I to become human, I would have to become flawed."

He tilted his head.

"Perhaps I am already flawed. The creation cannot be greater than the creator."

Ro was rarely in the mood for Zeta's profound philosophy. "So you think the golem is more like a human than like a renegade synthoid?" asked Ro. She frowned. "You think it's like people who run away from their responsibilities, in search of freedom?"

"I had not yet come to that conclusion; but you may be right." A thought had occurred to Zeta. "Where is your creator, Ro?"

"You mean my parents?"

"No… your designer."

Ro looked up, through the iron grate from which the rain was falling. She had never entertained such a silly thought before. Before she could answer, a voice startled them:

"She's about to meet 'im."


	3. The Soul's Program

Krick 's gun pointed at them through the grate. He was angry; otherwise he wouldn't be aiming at Ro. She was a lesser target, useful for distracting Zeta, but not the object of his hatred.

For a moment, Ro had time to be afraid.

Zeta, however, was not given to Krick's dramatics, or to the frailty of fear. He'd already reacted. His arm stretched up to the sewer grate and knocked it out of place, forcing Krick's gun away at the same time. Ro felt herself lifted from the ground, and tossed up a large sewage pipe, splashing in the shallow green stream. Once she regained her footing, she turned back to cry, "Zee!"

"Run!" he commanded.

Against all desires, Ro turned to scramble up the slimy pipe, away from her best friend. She didn't want to leave Zeta--- she had a chronic fear of being without him ---but she knew he had to concentrate on Krick.

The gunshots seemed to yank her heart back to him. She gritted her teeth, and forced herself onward. She struggled with her footing.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the shooting stopped. Krick's curses continued as the mirk water splashed with Zeta's retreating footsteps. He was trying to draw Krick away from Ro. Another, greater splash came a moment later, as Krick dropped into the sewers to pursue. Two hundred and fifty pounds of angry cyborg.

He did not, however, run after Zeta.

"Hi, sweetie."

Ro screamed as a laser seared her left leg. Immediately, she lost her grip on the pipe, and slipped straight downward, into Krick's arms.

"Let's get you out of here," she recalled hearing him say, "before this water infects your little wound."

She was in too much pain to protest, let alone think of something insulting to say. With one expert heave, Kirk lifted them both out of the sewer, onto the rainy street. When Ro finally regained her voice, she let out another scream, long and agonizing, as hot tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Zee---"

A metal arm struck the back of her head. There was another brief blast of pain, and light, before her vision blackened. She remembered feeling far away, and hearing the sound of her body hitting the ground.

**LATER**

**KRICK'S HIDEOUT**

When Ro awakened, time had raced by, but the pain had remained. Her untended leg throbbed. Sucking her breath through her teeth, she soon realized that she'd been chained to a sturdy oak chair. Her surroundings were unfamiliar. All was quiet, save a faint hum, and all was dark, save the glow of a computer monitor. Krick was partially visible, in the blue light that struck his red hair and pink flesh. On the left side of his face, cold, smooth metal glistened. His machine half had actually begun to creep over the rest of him, and grow more elaborate; he seemed almost to like his evolving appearance, even though that was part of his beef with Zeta in the first place. With every wound that cost him a limb, Kirk made up for it with new machinery.

It was perfectly legal for people to compensate for damage and disease by adding something artificial--- a pacemaker, a leg, an eyepiece. It was not legal, however, to add weapons. Krick had been able to hide his until Zeta came along. Now he was as much a wanted man as the outlaws he had once hunted.

Why was Kirk so intent on destroying Zeta? Was it a point of pride, or did he really believe he could make Zeta suffer, _pay?_ It was an interesting notion, that a cold-hearted vigilante could believe a robot had a soul.

Maybe Kirk was just insane.

"Where are we?" Ro mumbled.

Krick didn't answer.

"Hey! Bozo! Are you deaf?"

He gave her no satisfaction of replying, though she used some of her best quips. Eventually, she gave up.

More time passed, and Ro thought the pain in her leg might make her sick. She refused to reveal any weakness in front of Krick, however. Only Zeta was that privileged. Krick didn't seem to be paying much attention to her anyway, alternating between computer monitoring and rummaging around in some big black cases, the contents of which Ro couldn't see. At one point, she saw him lift a huge gun onto his shoulder.

"You know what's funny?" she asked. "Zee is twice the human that you are."

Finally, Krick decided to react. He smirked at her and tapped his eyepiece with one metal finger. "Maybe you could use one o' these, darlin'. I may be forty percent metal, but that's more flesh than Zeta will ever have."

"And less heart," Ro retorted.

Krick grunted in amusement, eyes on his work.

"And what is heart?" she continued. "Is it veins and muscle? Or is it love?"

"You're confusing heart with soul," Kirk sneered. "For instance. Say I put a guy in a coma. After a while, his wife pulls the plug on him because her minister says that the machine keeps the guy's heart beating, but his soul is gone." He went back to setting up his gun. "Well, I can shut down Zeta for as long as I want, but if I turn him back on again, he'll be just the same."

Ro swallowed hard. She was fighting this logic with all her might, but she didn't have an answer.

"Motion-sensitive lasers are planted in every air duct in this room," Krick told her. "If your robot tries to enter that way, _boom._ The only entrance I haven't taken care of yet is the door." He motioned into the darkness where the door must have been. "The moment he enters?" Kirk smirked, and repeated, _"Boom._ Maybe you should clip some coupons for a new friend."

"Or maybe he's already figured out all of that," Ro said.

"Your little Zeta operates on a system. He's still scoping the place out, _watching,_ learning. In a hostage situation, he'll do this for six hours or until he's got the information he needs."

Ro searched for an answer. "That was when he worked for the government. He's a little more unpredictable now."

A tiny beep sounded three times. Krick smiled again and pointed to the clock on his false arm. "Time's up. He'll be making his move now."

Ro sagged a little, but hoped it didn't show. Six hours had passed already? Krick taped her mouth closed, and gave her head a rough, patronizing pat before turning away. She closed her eyes.

_Where is your creator, Ro?_

_I don't know. If I did, I'd be asking Him to help you right now._

Krick was wiggling his fingers, loosening his shoulders. He closed his real eye and, with the other, gazed down the scope of his gun. It was set up, pointing into the direction he had indicated the door was in.

_Oh, Zee…_

There was an unexpected blast from an air vent, and Ro couldn't help but give a muffled cry. Krick sprang to his feet and drew a handgun, but the motion-sensitive laser beyond the vent made no other sound.

Ro sighed, her stomach twisted into a sickening knot.

Krick was scanning the walls quickly now, as if he was seeing through them but not finding what he was looking for. Ro watched him, hoping he would see Zeta and hoping he wouldn't. She wanted to scream, _Well!_

A blinding laser pierced the dark air. It came from the floor, and circled Ro swiftly. As the floor fell through, she gave a muffled scream, and she and her chair plummeted.

Into the arms of Zeta.

They were in a hotel! Zeta had outsmarted Krick and come for Ro from the room below. There was no time for any other assessment before Krick stepped up to the hole and fired down on them. Zeta tossed Ro aside, and took the blow in his chest. One bright scream of laser playing titanium.

Lying on her side, Ro twisted against the chair to look up at him, in horror at the sight of the damage he'd taken, and was taking now. He doubled over, his open wounds sparking, but then he grabbed a coffee table and jammed it into the ceiling. Kirk was blocked from sight.

Ro tried to scream Zeta's name through her gag. The damaged robot knelt over her and cut her bonds with his plasma gun. As she climbed to her feet, he opened a window and took hold of her again. By stretching his arms, he lowered her out of the building.

All the while, Kirk was blasting his way through that table, ready to jump into the room. Guns blazing.

Ro had nearly reached the ground when she felt Zeta jolt violently. She dropped the remaining two feet, looking up in horror, and saw Zeta's arms quickly retracting, before he disappeared back into the building. And she realized what had happened.

Krick had gained entrance to the room. Shot Zeta from behind.

Ro's mind raced for something she could do. Peeling the tape from her mouth, she ran the few feet to the hotel's from doors. She could tell the lobbyist to… no. She stopped. The police were probably already on their way, and that wasn't a good thing. While they'd want Krick, they would want Zeta even more.

Ro ran through the front doors. Everyone in the lobby had frozen to listen to the explosions upstairs. Some one tried to talk to Ro, but she blew past them, onto an elevator that had just dropped off its passengers.

"Elevator, floor six!" she yelled. The computer beeped in response, and the doors closed.

One component of Zeta's brain was focused on nothing but time. It was counting down to zero, to the moment that he lost power and collapsed into Krick's greedy hands. The rest of him was focused on fighting, on the hotel room, and on the sirens in the distance. Somehow, Zeta had managed to deprive Krick of his guns, and now they were fighting hand-to-hand. Krick could easily keep up with the damaged synthoid.

A fancy bedside table crunched, yet another casualty in their private war. Krick spoke, but Zeta's sensors ignored it--- irrelevant. He couldn't waste power processing his opponent's words unless they meant something.

He never heard the meaningless taunt.

"I've got you, Zeta."

Ro flew down the hallway. She pulled a fire alarm as she walked by, and immediately an alarm rang out. Doors burst open, heads peering out curiously as Ro blew past them all. The sound of Zeta and Krick's fight had not been enough to evacuate the building, but a fire alarm would surely do the trick. She hoped.

Ro found Krick's room easily enough. It was the only one filled with weapons and computers with its windows covered by steel plates. Running inside, she could easily see through the gash in the floor that Krick was still going at Zeta. Poor Zee looked awful. He was actually using one of his dead arms as a club.

Ro swung Krick's gun around on its stand, wondering if she could hit Krick and miss Zeta.

No. Probably not.

Still… Ro steeled herself and sent Zeta a silent apology. She pointed the gun, and closed her eyes. Her small fingers grasped the trigger tightly, slowly squeezing it back.

The resulting explosion sent three levels of the hotel collapsing on one another.


	4. Heart Complications

**LATER**

**HOVER TRANSPORT**

Painful jostling. Eyes closed tightly, Ro moaned. The adrenaline had left her system now, leaving behind the pain in her leg, compounded by a dozen new bruises, cuts, scrapes and whatever else. A dozen things might have happened after her world had gone black for the second time that day.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. A white bulb stared down at her from the ceiling of the jostling, moving vehicle she'd been placed in.

An ambulance!

"Where are you taking me?" screamed Ro. She tried to sit up, but she was strapped to a hospital gurney.

A female paramedic entered her vision. "Try to calm yourself, Rosalie…"

They knew her name. It was over! She was probably on her way to the hospital now, where the feds would be waiting to question her, then drop her in another foster home, or worse. Maybe Juvenile Hall. Maybe even the death penalty, for the way she'd been assisting "terrorists."

And who knew what had become of Zeta?

Ro thought of the gun she'd so desperately, and foolishly set off. Odds were she had killed Zeta in the blast.

_Rebuild him, and he'll be just the same,_ replayed Krick's words, taunting her now.

_So that's it?_ she wondered. _If I want to believe Zee has a soul, I have to believe he's dead now?_

"Ro?" the paramedic asked.

She didn't answer, or meet the woman's eyes. Ro was already withdrawing into herself. She was not her friend, this woman who'd killed her by saving her. It would be back to the old life: Solo Ro. Don't need you, don't want you.

"How are you feeling?" the medic asked.

"Oh, just peachy," Ro snarled, turning her head away. "I always enjoy a good building falling on my head."

The woman's hand--- warm but not warm enough, firm but not fleshly ---touched her shoulder. A voice spoke, earnest, soft, and so gentle. _"Ro._"

Her heart jolted. She turned to the medic, filled with disbelief. "Zee?"

"We're almost out of sight." The woman's mouth curved into an awkward, but sweet, smile. She flickered momentarily. Then the entire ambulance flickered. Ro felt everything slow to a stop, and shimmer brightly around her, soon blinding. Then the hologram disappeared.

They were in the carcass of a half-demolished building. And the paramedic was…

"Zee?" Ro blurted again, this time in horror.

He reached out one hand, an unrecognizable mess of metal. It unstrapped her from the gurney. Then he collapsed.

**LATER**

**DAKOTA CITY DOCKS**

Garret was in no mood to be bothered that evening. He was tired. It had rained the night before, and he'd barely slept, trying to locate and plug all the leaks in the shed, his home. Then, when the sun rose, he'd spent the day trying to steal some dry clothes and food, not an easy task when most of the local vendors recognized him as a thief. It had been a very bad 24 hours.

But when he realized it was Ro pounding on his door, hair disheveled, face twisted in pain, and with a large sack trailing behind her, Garret soon forgot his own problems.

He swung the door open, and she literally fell inside.

"Ro Rowen! What have you done to yourself?" he asked. He was unsure whether to shout or laugh, and suddenly realized that he probably sounded like a scolding mother. Not that he'd ever had one.

Ro lay on the floor, gasping. "That's it. I've used the last of my energy." She pulled open the sack. "Like he did."

With a crash and a clatter, Zeta tumbled onto the floor. He was folded in half, damaged, and falling to pieces, pieces that bounced and rolled every which-way.

Garret stood aghast. He was unsure of what to say first. "What did you do to him?" he finally asked, kneeling next to the mess.

"Are you kidding me!" she demanded, in the closest thing to a yell she could muster.

"I mean, what happened?"

Ro sighed. "You know the hotel that blew up?"

"Say no more." Garret looked at Zeta again. "Slag, Ro, he probably weighs one, two hundred pounds! How'd you even get him on your back?"

"I dragged him most of the way," she muttered. "Can you fix him?"

He sputtered. "Who am I, Bucky Buenaventura?"

"Well, Garret---!"

"Okay, okay! Let me think." Garret glanced at Zeta again, but he was more distracted by the sight of Ro. Her dirty, sullen face regarded Zeta with fatigue and remorse.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Garret asked.

She kept focused on his dead eyes. "Better than him."

Knowing she wasn't about to show weakness in front of him, and that the fact that she'd even come to him must have been a big step, Garret focused fully on the synthoid. He emptied the sack completely, wondering if there was any way to split the robot into two equal portions without damaging him further. Shaking his head after a moment of thought, he loaded Zeta up again.

"You carry one end. I think I know what we can do."

Ro climbed weakly to her feet, muttering, "Better not involve a scrap yard."

The two of them carried Zeta through the back alleys of the city. Garret led the way, stopping them every now and then to make sure they weren't seen. He'd noticed Ro's limp, her weary countenance, but he never asked if she wanted to rest. He knew she wouldn't until her robot was fixed.

It was as if Ro's heart was within Zeta, he thought. Zeta did all the feeling. Without him, Ro simply shut down her emotions.

Garret knew better than to tell her what he thought of _that._

After what seemed like an eternity, in which Zeta grew heavier by the moment, they reached a run-down building with boarded-up windows. Garret guided them to a pair of wooden cellar doors, which he kicked a few times.

A voice called from within. "Who's there?"

"It's me! Hurry up, this is heavy!"

Footsteps. Then the doors swung open for a heavyset, bearded man. He was greasy and unkempt, and wore a pair of glasses with several lights and magnifiers built onto them. He looked at Ro suspiciously, then at Garret, before taking the sack. The man hoisted it with a grunt and turned to stagger down the steps. Ro and Garret followed.

"Got any good parts for me this time?" the man asked.

Garret spoke quickly, before Ro could dismember him. "Not the usual scrap pawning this time, Herman. It's repair."

They reached the cellar and stopped. It was filled with knick-knacks: Exquisite replicas of human body parts, loose patches of fake skin; robot joints and limbs; wires and hard drives, oil and grease. Herman was depositing the sack on a work table. Over it, a single light bulb cast eerie shadows through the room.

"What _is_ this place?" Ro whispered, looking both disgusted and creeped.

"Ro, this is Herman," Garrett explained. "He fixes stuff for whoever needs it."

"For whoever can pay," Herman snapped. He was examining Zeta now. "This is a big-budget government model, three or four years old. Got any idea how hard synthoid parts are to get? Or how much they cost?"

Ro circled the table, her eyes on Zeta, until she was beside Herman. Garret came around the other side.

"A lot?" Ro chirped with mock innocence.

"Major creds. Easily into the hundred thousands."

Ro's hand had found its way into Herman's pocket. She felt something, a lighter. With another brief glance around the cellar, she carefully lifted the lighter out of his pocket, and lowered her hand as if it was empty. Herman didn't seem to notice.

"What if we can't pay that much _exactly?_" Garret was asking.

"Then you get your carcasses out of my shop."

Ro charged across the room suddenly, and kicked over a bucket of fuel. It spilled, surging across the floor, soaking through boxes of supplies. Ro knelt over the river and struck the lighter, holding it aglow.

"You fix him, or I take out the whole place!" she screamed. She knew that she looked and sounded desperate enough to be believed.

Herman blinked in horror for only a moment. Then his look darkened, and he drew a gun.

"I can point it at you way longer than you can hold up that lighter, tramp. And I happen to know that it's almost out of fuel."

Garret saw Ro's confidence drain. He strode forward and slapped the gun, easily, from Herman's hand, onto the floor. Both of them went for it, Herman stumbling, Garret diving. The boy gripped the weapon easily, and whirled to face Herman, backing up slightly.

"Ro, get that thing away from the fuel, but be ready to light it again." He smiled at Herman. "Now. Fix our robot."

_Our_ robot?

Well, Ro thought, if Garret wanted to help she wouldn't stop him. He owed them. Still, as she knelt on the grimy basement floor, poised to light the fuel ablaze, she still felt as if Garret had crossed some invisible line. He had broken an unwritten rule. This was _her_ race and _Zee's._ Garret was just one of the people they had helped along the way.

Besides, she still thought he was a jerk.

Herman went to work with a sour look on his face. Meanwhile, Garret reclined on a shelf, balancing the gun on one knee so that he could shoot easily, if necessary.

"How's it look?" he asked Herman.

"Hmph. If an operation can restore a human's sight, then it can fix a robot."

Garret frowned thoughtfully, though he kept his eyes on Herman. "Zeta said something like that to me once," he admitted. "He said my skin is covered with tiny sensors. And it would take him one hundred years to process what one of my sensors could process in one second."

Herman seemed disgruntled and disinterested. For a moment there was only the clanking of tools, Ro's derision, and Garret's thoughtful expression.

"Zee's a big fan of random, boring facts," Ro said.

"No," Garret answered. "Then he tied it in. Zeta told me if he's a machine worth thousands of creds, and I'm even better, then I must be worth more in _some_ way… I'd never expected a robot to offer so much comfort."

Herman glanced up. "Complex personality program, eh?" He looked at his work again, muttering, "That's rare in a government bot."

"Zee is special," Ro growled.

"No kidding!" Herman looked at her, brows arched. "Two grungy teenagers, a completely trashed infiltration unit, and a desperate blackmail situation. Now you're talking like this thing is your favorite kindergarten teacher, too! I'd say this is pretty _special_, alright."

"Hey, shut up and get back to work!"

Ernest shrugged and did as he was told. He worked for a while, no longer seeming so angry, perhaps because now, he was feeling smarter than them. "Funny that the robot should tell you that story," he said presently. "Usually people use that logic to illustrate that there's a Creator."

Ro moaned. More "creator" nonsense. Was she being stalked? "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Well, this here is a complicated machine. You can't just throw it together and expect it to work. If we're that much _more_ complicated--- so the theory goes ---then we certainly couldn't be mistakes."

"You have a lot of time to think, don't you?" Garret asked dryly. Herman nodded.

"So God made us and left us to rot," Ro said. "Real nice of him."

"I _hope_ that's not what he did," Herman replied, "because I'm counting on him to punish a certain pair of blackmailing street brats."

Ro flicked the lighter and held the flame tauntingly.

Their snide conversation was cut short by a series of violent knocks. The cellar doors swung open loudly. Garret tucked the gun into his jacket, and Herman quickly pulled a sheet over Zeta, whirling on the unwelcome visitor. It was a man, staggering down the steps uncertainly. Ro ducked out of sight.

The visitor was Krick.


	5. Still Breathing

Standing at the bottom of the steps, the powerful man swaying before them had been humbled dramatically. Light poured down behind him, making his bent figure more of a shadow that smelt of grease and burnt hair. He staggered forward, past Herman, and seated himself.  
"Get this thing off me!" Krick growled, as he tried to remove his ragged coat. "I just killed three cops, and they nearly killed me. My bionic arm is malfunctioning, and I can't feel three of its fingers. And I need a replacement gun. Who are _you?_"

The last question, even rougher and angrier, was directed at Garret. Krick glared at him suspiciously.

"Prototype G," Garret said quickly, trying to sound like a robot. "Test run."Krick grunted, and looked at Herman groggily. "Would you shut that thing off?"

Herman thought for a moment. This was, of course, his chance to blow both Garret's and Ro's cover. However, he seemed to think Krick wouldn't be much protection at the moment, so he walked over to Garret and slapped the side of his head. Garret immediately slumped over, closing his eyes. Herman subtly took his gun back.

"Still got your cred card?" Herman asked, turning back to Krick as he tucked the gun away.

"Yeah, I got it."

Forty minutes crept by as Herman and Krick worked. Garret was getting stiff, but he didn't dare move. He wasn't _exactly_ sure what was going on, but he knew two things: One, that this man was dangerous; and two, that Ro did not want to be seen by him.

"How's that?" Herman asked.

Garret didn't open his eyes, but he heard clicking. "Works good," Krick said. "Now, how about my eye? I can barely see through this one."

Herman was indignant. "You want _another_ bionic eye?"

"I supply the money! You just do what you're told."

"The operation would take hours."

"What have you got?" Krick asked forcefully, through gritted teeth. "I want something completely different for _this_ one. Something that will… expand my horizons."

"Like a chameleon?"

"What?"

"Chameleons. Their eyes work independently. They can see in two directions at once."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Krick said thoughtfully. "Except instead of seeing in different directions, I want to see through different filters."

"I'm not so sure if the human brain can handle…"

"Replace or add whatever you need to."

There was a drawn-out silence, perhaps not as long as it seemed to be. Finally, Herman sighed loudly. There was a rattle of equipment as he moved some boxes. "Lie down here."

"Wait." There was a click and a beep. "Cred card's locked down, understand? It won't open unless I'm alive. So don't' try anything funny while I'm out. Touch it, and my system reboots immediately. I wake up and---"

"I know how a lockdown works," Herman grumbled. "Here."

Now Garret heard deep beathing. It was as if Krick were wearing an oxygen mask. Slowly, he began to sound more relaxed, until there came a last, contented sigh. Garret cracked one eye open, and found that Krick lay on his back, slipping into unconsciousness. Herman was removing the breathing mask he had used to apply the sedative.

"Alright, brats. It's safe," he barked.

Ro emerged cautiously, grudgingly, but when she saw Krick was out she gained more confidence. Garret jumped to his feet and walked over to join her.

"Now," said Herman. "Get out of my shop."

Ro spoke adamantly. "Not without Zee!"

Herman raised his gun and aimed it precisely at her head. "I did you a _favor_ by putting this low-life to sleep first! I don't want a fight in here, and I don't want to deal with your _bodies,_ so get out before I shoot you."

Ro flicked the lighter.

Without the least bit hesitation, Herman pulled the trigger.

The shot wasn't loud, but it still had a powerful flash. Garret stood in horror as he watched the force of the shot throw Ro backward, against a stack of boxes that collapsed all around her. He watched for a sign of life. She sobbed faintly, her face contorted in a silent scream, and her arms rose feebly, grasping her ribcage.

Herman took one cautious step forward, training his gun, while Garret knelt over her. He watched for a moment. "Can she walk?" he asked.

Garret didn't know, so he didn't answer. Ro looked up slowly, her teeth gritted so hard that her whole body shook. Her blue eyes were filled with animalistic rage. With an enraged scream, she pushed herself up suddenly, clawing at Herman. Garret caught her around the waist, holding her back. "No!"

"I'm serious! I really don't have time to drag your body to the dock!" Herman bellowed. He swung his arm, and the gun caught Ro on the side of the head. "You've got ten seconds to get her out of here!"

Garret tried to guide Ro away, but despite the condition her body was in, she was still trying to fight. "C'mon, Ro!" he grunted.

"No!"

She tried to fight him. It was a pathetic endeavor. Garret dragged her past the sleeping Krick and toward the stairs, ignoring her efforts to bite him. "Not without Zee!" she shrieked. "I won't leave him here! He wouldn't do that to me!"

Garret hugged her to him so that she could barely breath, and clamped a hand over her mouth. His voice was filled with dangerous impatience. "Shut up and move!"

They struggled up the stairs. They staggered into the alley and past the rows of garbage. In one last burst of energy, Ro braced her feet against the ground and slammed them both into a brick wall.

Garret wasn't hurt, but he was angry. He pushed her away and slapped her. She fell to the ground.

"You stupid girl!" he roared. "You stupid, _stupid,_ freaking stupid girl!"

"Real impressive vocab!" Ro panted. Her usually strength, however, was gone. Speaking had only revealed her failing voice, and emphasized her shrunken, crumpled form. She groaned finally, and curled up, hugging her chest wound.

Garret realized he had hit her, and his countenance drooped. Staring down at her for a moment, he felt a stab of guilt. Then he regained some defensive anger.

"He was gonna kill us, Ro! He could have, plenty of times! Would Zeta have wanted that?"

"Who's bright idea was it to go to him, anyway?"

"You came to me for help!" Garret bellowed.

"Last time I make _that_ mistake!"

He watched as she tried to get up. Wobbling, she stood on her feet for a moment, before turning carefully, limping away. After a few steps she slowed, then stopped, weaving back and forth for a moment.

Garret ran forward, and caught her just as she collapsed.

**LATER**

**DAKOTA GENERAL HOSPITAL**

**EMERGENCY ROOM**

"Where is she wounded?"  
"Not sure. At least one gunshot to her torso. She was limping earlier."

"Which leg?"

"Don't know."

"Why is she unconscious?"

"She passed out. I think she's been knocked out plenty of times, especially today."

"That would explain it…"

As the world rushed past her in a breath of cool air, Ro tried to raise her heavy eyelids. She failed. While the voices continued to bark back and forth, she thought she recognized one of them, and tried to move her cumbersome lips. At this she succeeded.

"Tell 'em," she mumbled, "about the part where you hit me. Garret."

The foreign voice spoke. "She's awake. Miss Rowen, how do you feel?"

"Who the frag _are_ you?" Ro demanded.

"She's fine," Garret said.

Ro finally opened her eyes a bit. She saw a bright light for a moment, before it whizzed out of view. Then another came. She squinted.

"Thought process seems clear," the other voice was saying. "But it's hard to say at this point. She looks pretty battered."

"Slag, you're a doctor!" Ro said. Her eyes flew open wide, now. "This is a hospital! Garret, you idiot, I will kill you!"

"You see?" Garret asked the doctor.

She was on a stretcher again--- a real stretcher with real medics, being speedily wheeled down a hallway. Her wrist was handcuffed to the gurney rail. As her surroundings sped past, she saw Garret fall back, and for a moment saw who was holding his arm. A police officer? They were soon out of sight.

"Did you hear me, Garret!" Ro screeched. "I hate you! And if I ever see you again, I'll bash your face in, I swear! You fragging dreg! I hate you! _I hate you!_"

They wheeled her into a room. She kept screaming.

"I hope you enjoy your reward, traitor!"

Her handcuffs were released for a moment as they transferred her aching, but flailing, body onto a bed. Then she was safely cuffed down again. The doctor was trying to question her. "Miss Rowen, can you tell me what you've been through?"

"It doesn't matter!" Ro snapped. She fought the sob swelling in her throat. "It's all over. Everything's---"

"Please, help us to help you."

"Aren't you listening?"

Ro gasped suddenly, as she felt the cold tip of a serum gun pressed to her arm. There was a hiss as the sedative was ejected into her bloodstream, and then a click as the tiny wound was pressed shut. With the sedative came a heavy feeling, as if her body were slowly turning to stone. Ro sighed and leaned back in defeat. Now a strange lightness spread through her, but it was not enough to lift her spirits.

"Now that we're calm," said the doctor, "would you tell us how you've been injured?"

Ro spoke grudgingly, while the doctor shone a light into her eyes. "Shot in the leg. Hit over the head… Dropped through a ceiling. Um… Knocked over plenty of times. Oh yeah, a _building_ fell on me. Then I crossed the city dragging a hundred pounds of metal on nothing but adrenaline. Got shot, hit…"

As she spoke, the doctor listened intently. With each word that came forth, his complexion turned a little grayer, his eyebrows rising, mouth tightening. When she finished, he was silent for a moment.

She looked at him sourly. "Well?"

"I…" He smiled weakly. "I don't know how you can still be alive, Miss Rowen."


	6. Technical Issues

**HERMAN'S SCRAP SHOP**

**THAT MORNING**

Herman rose tiredly after cleaning his hands. Drying them off, he glanced at the vid-screen, half paying attention to the morning news. When he saw the face displayed in the corner of the screen, however--- an old photo pulled out of some file, somewhere ---he froze.  
He recognized that pretty little blonde, even if she younger and skinnier. Herman turned up the volume.  
"Seventeen-year-old Rosalie Rowen, if fit to stand trial, will be seen by the Supreme Court itself. She will be one of the growing number of minors charged with treason against her country. Why? For the last two years, Rowen has advised and aided Infiltration Unit Zeta, formerly a government synthoid now thought to be reprogrammed by an unnamed terrorist organization. During its time with Rowen they are thought to have jeopardized several federal operations, including one incident where they protected an international drug dealer. Rowen is described as being the 'cultural dictionary' of the team, helping the robot to blend in and deceive…"  
Herman turned to one of his work tables. He lifted the sheet to gaze on the scattered robot parts, regarding them with new interest now. He picked up the head and stared into a pair of dead, gray eye bulbs, before turning it over. There it was. The machine's name: IU6.  
Across the room, Krick drew a deep breath, awakening suddenly. Herman put the head down and covered it again as his patient rose.  
Herman went to shut off the news.  
"What's that?" Krick asked. Herman froze, and Krick walked over to stare at the screen.  
"Infiltration Unit Zeta is thought to be still at large. No evidence was recovered from the hotel blast earlier this week, which authorities now believe Zeta is responsible for."  
"Interesting," Krick muttered.  
"Why's that?" asked Herman.  
In response, Krick's metal hand reached for the work table, whipping the sheet away.  
Zeta lay bare under the light.

**LATER THAT DAY  
HOSPITAL**

Sunshine poured through the window, bringing a heavenly glow to the otherwise drab hospital room. It would not cheer Ro. She stared stonily at the ceiling. She couldn't help but remember. Memories were all that she had now, and Zeta, slag him, had turned her into quite a softy during the short time they had been together.  
Ro remembered the brief moment where Zeta's cold hand had clutched her throat, automatically attacking the first thing he'd seen--- before he'd withdrawn and apologized. After that, she recalled nothing but story after story of how he'd faithfully fed and clothed her, shielded her, befriended her, driven her insane and…  
Made her fall in love with him.  
_Oh yes, Ro, you are that stupid! _She sighed out loud. It figured that the only person who had ever cared about her, who she could care about, had been a robot. A disassembled one, at that.  
Agent Bennet was sitting at her bedside, still waiting for an answer to the question he'd asked. She'd forgotten what it was, though she didn't care. He'd most likely flown in the moment her name had hit the hospital's computer files, and now he was waiting for her to make all his dreams come true--- to tell him that Zeta was scrap metal. Or to tell him where Zeta had gone, so he could stop him.  
_I'll bet this is the most wonderful day of your life, isn't it, Bennet? You don't even care that my life is over._  
For a while, she'd considered telling Agent Bennet where Krick was, to get a last, bitter and brief stab at revenge; but if Herman's illegal workshop were torn apart, Zeta would likely be discovered, and Ro would have nothing left. She still clung to her last, ragged shred of comfort in the fact that, even though she didn't have Zeta, Bennet didn't have him, either.  
As she lay in the hospital, her whole body aching, and Bennet waiting… he asked his last question. Really, his only question.  
"Miss Rowen. Is Zeta still running loose?"  
She glared at the ceiling for just a second longer. Then she turned her icy gaze upon him. _"Yes._"  
Bennet glanced at the device in his hand. A lie detector? She blinked. She couldn't even be allowed one measly lie? Even that revenge was taken from her?  
Bennet looked at her with a hint of smile in his eyes, a hint of bittersweet satisfaction. He knew the truth. "Thank you. That's all."  
He left.  
The chiropractor arrived a while later, to add to her physical and mental anguish. She still wasn't sure if his "help" had eased her pain at all; but had she really much choice in what happened to her, while she was still a handcuffed prisoner?  
The next day, the Morgans had made a surprise visit. Somehow they'd even been allowed into the room without guards present. Tiffy had fumbled every air-headed word she spoke, of course, and Sheriff Morgan had been grim, maybe even sad. They said they were willing to help. They would be there in court, silently rooting for her, and willing to take her home if they could--- if she liked.  
She hadn't really given them an answer.  
Psychologists, investigators, agents and attorneys had visited her, nearly driven her insane. She finally decided she would welcome them. She would practice on them as she worked to return to her old, bitter self. No one would touch her so deeply again  
By the time her brother Casey arrived, she'd had nothing but bitter sarcasm left. It was a brutal triumph. He seemed to understand.  
Ro was soon declared fit to stand trial, but that didn't mean she did right away. There were plenty of cases for each court to hear. After healing, she was soon awaiting trial in a girl's prison a few states away. She discovered that it wasn't much different from the "group home" she'd once lived in, before meeting Zeta. Her life had come full circle.  
She often wondered what had become of Garret. Had he gotten a reward for turning her in? She was, after all, a traitor to her country.  
Ha.


	7. A Little Upgrade

**ONE YEAR LATER  
SUPREME COURTHOUSE**

The wind was chilly. Krick, crouching on the edge of the rooftop, pulled his new black coat around his body, and peered down at the street. Below him was the usual horde of undaunted press and stubbornly idiotic Zeta fans. They'd been faithfully planted there every morning for months, but Krick could sense the extra energy today. A major decision was about to be announced, and they were all on edge--- the fans ready to despair or rejoice, the Spacies ready to go "home" or to stage a revolution, the press ready to make a profit whatever the outcome.  
Not Krick. He was perfectly calm. He felt nothing. Patience was something that a bounty hunter--- or in this case, assassin ---had to train himself in.  
Hours ticked by, and the pale rosy dawn became a cold blue. Then, the crowd finally began to stir. Krick remained motionless, his weapon already frozen in position.  
The courthouse doors burst open, and more reporters poured out. Voices rose in a great, rambling roar, demanding their share of information. Hovercams soared to life over people's heads. Finally, one reporter braced himself at the top of the stairs. He raised his arms, demanding attention. Everyone quieted, hopes hanging, to hear his words:  
"Guilty! Guilty!"  
The crowd burst into commotion again. Krick only smiled to himself, and slipped his gun back into his coat. "Good old Uncle Sam," he murmured. The job had been taken care of for him.  
Reporters were going wild, running for their cars and taxis, shouting into their microphones and cameras. The Zeta fans sank to the ground, their picket signs drooping. The Spacies paced angrily, shouting accusations at The Man.  
His vengeance complete, Krick turned away. Within a few minutes, he was gone.

**THREE MONTHS LATER  
STONEGATE PRISON**

_"Miss Rowen. How did you meet Infiltration Unit Zeta?"  
"We were both on the run. Our paths just… crossed. I thought the feds were after me for a second."  
"Did Zeta threaten you?"  
She narrowed her eyes coldly. "No."  
The attorney flinched slightly. That was not the agreed-upon answer. "Uh, he was damaged, was he not?"  
"Yeah. He was about to shut down."  
"So he kidnapped you and forced you to drive the getaway car."  
"More like he asked me to, before he completely died. I chose to take the car."  
"Why?"  
"Well, I was already in trouble. I thought, 'Why not?'"  
The unrest could be literally felt stirring throughout the room. Despite his calm, controlled voice, the attorney's face was turning red. "Has Zeta ever hurt you?" he ground out.  
She thought of that cold, cruel hand closing over her throat. "No."  
"Were you ever free to leave?"  
"He tried to ditch me plenty of times, after my life was in jeopardy. But I chose to stay with him. He was the only one who seemed to really care about me."  
Pause. The attorney seemed to consider backing down. He had to save this somehow, however, and he was known for fighting through the toughest cases. "Did you ever witness Zeta in contact with anyone who appeared to be a terrorist, or have terrorist links?"  
"Of course not. Terrorists hurt people. Zee would never want to hurt anyone."  
_Zee._ The attorney's jaw tightened. He'd told her a dozen times not to call the robot by its pet name. He had to fall back and regroup now, get her off the stand as quickly as possible so that he could iron out the huge mess she'd single-handedly created for them. "No more questions!"  
_It was all burned so deeply into her memory. She hated to think of it, she could feel embarrassment searing her hot skin, whenever she was reminded of the moment she'd lost. The moment the prosecutor had leapt to his feet…_  
"Miss Rowen! Who is this 'Zee'?"  
She swallowed, frowning apprehensively. "It's what I call Zeta."  
"So you attest that IU Zeta would never hurt anyone, in any way?"  
"Never."  
"Are you aware that, both before and after the robot's rebellion, it has been responsible for a total of 89 deaths?"  
Ro took a deep breath. She felt sick.  
"Answer the question, please."  
"Sort of," she stammered.  
"What does that mean, 'sort of'?"  
"I know he used to kill. But he didn't want to anymore."  
"Ah." The sarcasm galled her. She drew another deep breath, trying to be strong, as the prosecutor paced to let her words sink in. "Tell us again, please, why you were an accomplice to the infiltration unit."  
"He was my friend."  
_She must have sounded crazy._  
"And the fact that he had an unlimited cred card had nothing to do with it?"  
_You're a fool, Rowen._  
The prosecutor continued. "Is it true that Zeta accompanied you on several frivolous shopping sprees?"  
She bowed her head, licked her lips, sighed. "Yes."  
Now she finally saw why her attorney had wanted to victimize her as much as possible, play a "different angle" on the story. All she had to do, however, was remind herself why she was telling the truth. She wasn't going to let Zeta's name be sullied anymore. He deserved better. People had to know the truth!  
"Objection!" The attorney shouted. "Your honors, the prosecution is harassing the defendant."  
"Objection denied."  
"Why would you do this?" the prosecutor asked Ro.  
"He was my friend!" she reiterated.  
"Seems more like he was a toy that you used for your own advantage."  
"Zee was a soul!" Ro shouted. "No one can convince me otherwise. He wasn't a terrorist or a monster or a machine. He was a person!"  
The prosecution nodded curtly. "No more questions," he said.  
_The present. An eighteen-year-old girl--- a legal "adult" ---lazed in her cell on death row. It was deafeningly quiet. She could go to the library. Read a book or something. But what use was it? However she spent her time, it was time wasted. She might as well have already been dead.  
One year. She had one year before time ran out, and she came to the front of the line.  
_ "What were you doing up there? We agreed you were going to play the innocent. You see those big guys up there in the robes? They might not care whether there's a public outcry or not--- if they want to kill you, they can. That means, even if you are a minor: Fatal injection, seizures, paralysis, and finally death."  
Ro said nothing.  
"You understand?"  
She nodded.  
The attorney sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Just let me figure out what we're going to do…"_  
Nothing. He could do nothing to save her. Perhaps, on some subconscious level, she had wanted it this way. Zeta had died for her. Yes, for her! It was her fault he had played into Krick's hands. Perhaps she had wanted to return the favor.  
Would she die for a robot? No.  
But would she die for her best friend? Yes.  
Ro's computer, one of the few luxuries she was permitted, warbled. An instant message, from the community she'd anonymously joined. There she could anonymously continue to promote her message of Zeta's innocence. Apparently, some one had taken the bait.  
She crawled across her bed to read the message that had appeared.

**INCIDENTALGENIUS says:** Want to cyber?

Impertinent jerk. Ro huffed and glared at the screen--- not because of the question, but because of his insolence to contact her _now,_ after all this time. She considered ignoring the message. Being curious, however, as well as bored, she finally typed back.

**REBELLIONSCAUSE** **says:** Idiot.

The answer was just as bold.

**INCIDENTALGENIUS:** Age/sex/location?

Ah, so he wanted to play, to pretend as if they were strangers? "Fine, then," Ro muttered, and resumed typing.

**REBELLIONSCAUSE:** 18/Female/Gotham.

"Stonegate Prison, death row," she finished under her breath. Soon, the "genius" was replying.

**INCIDENTALGENIUS:** 15/Male/California.

**REBELLIONSCAUSE:** Astonishing. Where have you been all my life?

"Right. Where have you been for the last half-_year,_ _Bucky?_" Ro growled.  
Bucky, of course, knew what she meant. His answer popped up soon enough.

**INCIDENTALGENIUS:** Staying out of trouble.  
**INCIDENTALGENIUS:** I saw on your profile you like robots. Me too. Have one?

**REBELLIONSCAUSE:** No, I don't have one, sadly. You?

There was a pause. Bucky seemed to be considering what she obviously meant--- "Do you know what's become of Zeta?" ---and wording his answer carefully. They couldn't be caught writing their own confessions. After all, _Bucky_ might get into _trouble._

**INCIDENTALGENIUS:** I doubt I can afford one.

**REBELLIONSCAUSE:** Some things are worth it.

"You miserable pile of slag," Ro snarled. She'd been right to tag him a weasel all those years ago. He was such a coward, so afraid of putting his neck out for anything, no matter how precious, as long as he didn't have to, as long as it didn't _benefit_ him somehow.  
Survival of the fittest. The strong preying upon the weak, instead of helping them.  
Bucky was too much of a scientist, sometimes.

**INCIDENTALGENIUS:** What you say is interesting. I suppose you've heard the rumors about that one robot, Zeta.

**REBELLIONSCAUSE:** Rumors are nothing.

**INCIDENTALGENIUS:** Really? They say he's been reprogrammed by a bounty hunter.

What! Ro blinked and stared at the screen, disbelieving, almost reeling back. She had to force her fingers to type and, doing so, she realized her heart was drumming violently.

**REBELLIONSCAUSE:** What are you talking about? I thought no one had seen him since Ro Rowen's arrest.

**INCIDENTALGENIUS:** Heck no. Now, he supposedly works for a guy named Roden Krick.

"No way," Ro whispered. A shiver ran over her body. "No way…"

**INCIDENTALGENIUS:** I gtg. Suppertime.

**REBELLIONSCAUSE:** ok

Bucky signed out quickly, almost before he could get her message--- and with no promise of return.  
For a long time, Ro stared at the screen. She sat motionless, afraid that any movement might send her collapsing.  
If anyone could have seen her face in that moment, one word would have come to mind: _lost.  
___

**MEANWHILE  
BLÜDHAVEN HARBOR**__

Police chase._  
_The getaway car turned sharply and squealed into an alley. With a splash of sparks, it scraped against a wall before correcting itself in a snaking pattern. The driver didn't know where he was going. The destination was a little place called Anywhere, as long as it led him away from those wailing sirens.  
No! A bent, hooded figure appeared in his path--- a homeless woman pushing a grocery cart, right in front of him! There was enough room for the fugitive's car to dodge her.  
By the time two police cars arrived, however, they were not as fortunate.  
The officers slammed on their brakes. The woman, planted in the middle of the road, looked up in sudden terror--- before she threw off her hood to reveal a costume of silver and blue. Her hands extended quickly.  
The air filled with a brilliant flash. Rocket like screams accompanied embers which blasted the cars, flipping them like tin cans, and sending them rolling back down the alley.

They crunched to a stop. One siren still wailed erratically.  
Satisfied, the woman let her hands fall. She turned, her dark curls bouncing, to watch the getaway car disappear. Her face pouted bitterly. "You're welcome," she sighed.  
Mocking, deliberate applause. A single pair of hands clapped behind her. Again she turned, this time slowly, one brow arched.  
"Still trying to be a vigilante for the criminals, Fanfare?" The speaker had not been there a moment earlier. He leaned against the alley wall, his hands still poised in mid-air.

Smiling, Fanfare put a hand on her hip. "Roden Krick," she said. "You look like you've had a few upgrades."  
"While you're in the same old place. Give or take a Metahuman or two," Krick scoffed. He sauntered toward her, his black coat swishing.  
"So what brings you back to little old me?" Fanfare gave a faint laugh. "If I recall correctly, the Injustice Gang was 'a waste of time and effort.'"  
"And I was wrong," spat Krick. _"It was too pathetic for words to describe."_  
"You're sweet." Fanfare retained her smile, however stiff, and looked him in the eye. "So, the reason for your visit would then be…?"  
"I've missed you, my dear."  
"Ha! I'm sure."  
"You realize, of course, what we are."  
Fanfare arched a brow, daring him to explain.  
Krick tapped his chest with a bionic finger. "I'm the bounty hunter. And you're the bounty."  
Immediately, Fanfare went on the offensive. She raised her hands again, ready to fight. How foolish she was to not have realized sooner! When Krick made a move for his weapons, Fanfare emitted another blast from her hands. The fiery explosion sent a score of thunder and glitter through the air, right at him.  
Her eardrums cracked. Thick smoke filled the air. Dancing backward, Fanfare peered through the embers cautiously.  
Was he still alive? Was it safe to run?  
Movement. Krick advanced--- unharmed! Though confused, Fanfare brought the glow back into her hands, preparing for another draining blast; and all the while, her mouth hung open in shock.

As if to explain, Krick paused. He distorted, shimmered, and disappeared.  
His image was replaced by a synthoid.  
Fanfare was confused, and she whirled around to find the real Krick standing behind her. "Surprise."  
His gun sounded.


	8. Hacked

**STONEGATE PRISON**

**2:55 AM**

He flexed his fingers, nervous.

No one had ever done this before. Not successfully. Never.

Favors had been called, lies told, and laws broken. He'd already taken a number of risks and sacrificed everything he had.

All for this. A crazy plan that would most likely fail. Could one human being really be worth such a price?

He pushed back one last thought of his family and pulled himself up the ladder. Night vision lenses illuminated the small tunnel well. He moved with speed, soundlessly, just as he'd been trained to do so long ago. It was practically instinct now. A tiny manhole waited above him, ready to slip aside the moment he pressed the button on his wrist.

He fought the temptation to relax. It couldn't be this easy.

Ro started awake. Her door was opening. She struggled to sit up in bed, bleary-eyed and tangled in her sheets… and frightened by the hooded black figure in her doorway. For a moment, as she sorted her dreams from reality, she thought she was seeing her executioner.

Whoever this man was, he quickly rushed in and yanked her to her feet. She tried to speak as he swept her toward the door.

"Wha--- Hey, I still have a year, dreg! Check your schedge!"

"Quiet!" he said. His voice was distorted by a scrambler. Clamping one hand over her mouth, he dragged her into the hallway. She looked around in awe. Not a guard was in sight.

The stranger released her and jumped into a hole in the floor. He was climbing down a ladder. Ro stepped forward to peer after him, and he paused, looking back. She saw his face--- all rubber, like an old gas mask, revealing none of his features.

"If you wish," he said, "You can follow, and be the first to escape Stonegate Prison. Or you can stay and die in a few years. You have one minute to decide, before a droid sweeps this hallway."

With that, he resumed climbing. Ro didn't think. She just joined him on the ladder, descending after him fervently. When she was a few feet in, the man hit a button on his wrist, and the hole closed over them.

All was dark now. Ignoring her fear, Ro kept going. She put her trust in this mysterious entity, whose name she couldn't begin to guess.

"Stop," he ordered.

She stopped.

There was a sound of hands slipping from metal bars, and then, the sound of a man landing somewhere below. Water sloshed lazily.

Then an engine hummed to life, and light filled the tunnel. The man had landed in the driver's seat of an air/water cruiser. There was an empty chair beside him.

Ro allowed herself to fall, and landed almost perfectly in the passenger's seat. The man pressed a button and the roof slid over them. Then they submerged. The water was dark, but Ro could feel the cruiser accelerating to a powerful speed.

"So. Who are you?" she asked.

"Hold on. We're not out yet."

She bit back her sarcasm and let him drive. They blasted through the underground tunnels, at speeds that seemed unnecessary, until Ro realized: this man had broken into Stonegate Prison. He had--- momentarily ---freed a prisoner. This place was infamous, located on an right off Gotham City, for crying out loud! No one ever escaped. Once a person entered its walls, it was fully understood that they would not leave until they were dead.

How had this guy done it?

No one escaped Stonegate. In fact, they probably still wouldn't.

The screen in front of them issued a warning. Two incoming blips made their way across a grid, straight for the point of light that was their cruiser. Police subs. They were being chased.

"Hang tight."

Ro was already gripping her armrests.

The vid-screen warned them again when a torpedo was fired. The man dipped to the left, allowing the rocket to speed past. It soon corrected itself, turning to face them; but one of their own torpedoes took it out.

A small victory. There would be others to gain. The easiest course of action, naturally, would be to take out the police on their tail. Ro looked at her rescuer. Was he the killing type?

Their craft raced through rocks and tides. Closely pursued. Everything was darkness, beams extended to nothing, and echolocation. Technology kept them alive. And, like a traitor, technology kept their enemies close.

"Nobody escapes Stonegate," Ro whispered.

The man overheard. She thought she detected bitterness through the distortion in his voice. "Don't talk like that. You may have nothing to lose, but I do."

They flew over an underwater valley, deep, vast, and dark. The man dove them straight into its black mouth. Torpedoes streaked after them.

Ro just gripped her armrests, eyes shut tight, praying that they wouldn't be blown into fish snacks.

Praying! Well, not really! A lot of death row inmates had turned to some religion or other in their final hours, but she'd never gone that far. She'd always been Solo Ro.

Yet, diving into the unknown, with no hope and no control--- no Zeta to put her trust in ---what else could she do but cry out, even if no one could hear?

_I can't die. I can't die! I'm so young. How did my life get so messed up like this?_

_Why did you put me here? You built me and wound me up and set me free, and then watched my world fall apart! You owe me! Understand! Are you deaf! Do you only speak Hebrew!_

_Do not let me die down here!_

_Oh, please, don't let me die!_

Their craft veered and whirled again, this time into a small cave. Her rescuer shut down the cruiser, and their lights dimmed. Then they were still, not daring to move an inch. Staring out at the water.

The man's anxious, heavy breathing could be heard through his mask. It sounded odd. Finally, after calming himself, he spoke softly. "There's scuba gear and a wet suit in the back. Put it on."

She climbed over her seat. After feeling around, she soon found the gear and fumbled to put it on. Following a struggle, during which the silent tension only rose, she was finally dressed and getting back into her seat. Her folded pajamas rested in her lap. It was something for her hands to fret with.

"Ever been scuba diving?" the man asked.

"Came close once," she replied.

"You might get your chance soon."

She crumpled her pajamas. Smoothed them out again. "How much longer are we going to wait?"

"It's 2 AM. In a few hours, it will be too light to make it to shore safely. We'll have to move soon, but not until I'm sure it's safe. But I may never be sure, in which case we'll have to risk it."

Ro adjusted her hair, another thing to occupy her hands. "How'd you get us this far?"

"By sinking to levels of the lowest kind. I asked a lot friends to compromise for me. Lied to others. Finally, I managed to clear the guards from your floor for a few minutes, a 'glitch' in the shift change that hasn't occurred in over thirty years. Then, all the security cameras on the compound conveniently went out. Everyone was rushing to fix the problem. And your floor was forgotten for a few precious minutes."

Ro gaped in the darkness. "That… must be a _huge _operation. I'm not even sure _Zeta_ could have pulled it off!"

"Zeta doesn't have the friends that I do."

"Are you gonna tell me who those friends are?" Ro asked. "And who _you_ are, while you're at it?"

The man's breathing echoed on. He never answered.

Ro bit her lip thoughtfully, trying to figure out why he would hide. She realized it could have been standard procedure. It was good to have secrets. Especially when at least one of them might still be caught.

Especially if you'd just committed a federal offense.

The man booted up their cruiser again. They inched forward. Then they sped out, tilting almost straight up on their way to the surface.

Splash! Water broke away. They were in the air. Wings spread wider from the pod to create a slipstream, and the man hit some settings to put them on camouflage. They were flying safely through the air. Hopefully, they would go unnoticed by police copters.

"We safe yet?" Ro asked.

"There is no 'safe'."

That made sense, though it wasn't comforting. She leaned back and hugged her pajamas to her chest. It was just like traveling with Zeta--- but with less humor relief.


	9. Fragmented

**DAWN  
BLÜDHAVEN**

The sun was just rising over the 'Haven, shedding pale light on a rusty city. Krick was climbing through the back of the van, having just checked on Fanfare to make sure her bonds were still tight. He plopped into the passenger's seat.

"Drive us to the police station," he ordered.

Zeta shimmered and assumed the hologram of a non-entity. Then he shifted the van into drive, and pulled out of the alley where they'd spent the night.

Driving had always been a subconscious task for Zeta, and now that he knew their destination he could put himself on auto-pilot. He used this time to assume defragmenting his hard drive. There were many misplaced, damaged, scattered, and fragmented files still left in his memory, from some past "life" that had been erased by a reprogramming. It would take a while to sort and clean them.

An alert popped up in his mind:

FRAGMENT MEMORY FILE. VIEW/DELETE?

He decided to view it, in case it might be important.

_The first frame was just blurred motion. A hand, human and Caucasian, quickly drew away from him as he sat upright. Soon the surroundings ceased motion and came into focus. A girl in her early teens stood before him, mouth dropped open in shock._

_THREAT._

_All of this happened in seconds. Zeta snatched her by the throat. As his metal fingers clamped down hard on fragile flesh, the girl's eyes bugged, her mouth opened in a silent gag._

_Then…_

Zeta could not remember quite what had happened. The file was damaged, he supposed.

_Something in his programming recoiled from the involuntary action of his hand. He felt gears switching and reversing throughout his mind, and then throughout his body. His hand finally released her, and she fell to her knees, gasping for air._

_Zeta straightened to look at her. "Please forgive me," he heard himself say. "You saved my---"_

With a sound of distortion and another blurred frame, the memory ended. Zeta found himself in the present again, staring down the street. The alert still flashed in his eyes.

VIEW/DELETE?

_Delete,_ he commanded. And the useless memory was gone.

**THAT MORNING**

**WAREHOUSE**

Ro awakened. She was curled in the passenger seat of the cruiser. After being in Stonegate so long, she'd grown unused to waking up in strange vehicles, with strange surroundings. This one was parked in an empty warehouse whose roof was collapsing in the far right corner.

She sat up quickly, trying to remember all that had happened. Someone had "rescued" her. "Rescued" would remain in quotes until she discovered the reason.

The rescuer himself had just been pulling his gas mask on and whirling to face her. Ro hadn't seen anything of his appearance, not even a glimpse of skin tone. She hid her disappointment.

"Good morning," said the man, in a distorted voice that no one would recognize.

Ro leapt out of the cruiser. "Okay. Start spilling. You said you would tell me who you were and why you busted me out."

He folded his arms. "Knossos has been destroyed. That makes you, when it comes to Zeta, the most knowledgeable person alive. You may have heard he's gone double-renegade."

"Just renegade," Ro said, folding her arms.

The man conceded. "Whatever you say. I liberated you because I want your help bringing the robot down. Krick isn't stable. He's going to hurt bystanders and use Zeta to do it. I don't care how we stop it, as long as there's no carnage. They say you have the ability to revert the synthoid."

Ro supposed that she did. The realization was like the first dawn in decades, a flash of shimmering hope raining onto her. For a moment, her eyes revealed that hope, and the drumming of her heart. Zeta still existed, at least physically. She might be able to take him back.

She realized that he could read her emotions like a book. Quickly, her eyes snapped into a glare. "You skipped the part about who you are."

Again, the man hesitated. "Maybe the less you know, the better," he said. "Nothing personal."

Ro arched a brow, delivering her coldest stare. It proved ineffective.

"Fine then," she blurted. "What am I supposed to call you in the meantime?"

"…I'll think about it."

"It's too late! I've already named you Clarence."

"Clarence?" he echoed.

"You prefer Sven?"

"Suit yourself," he muttered. "Clarence" turned to the table behind him, and then turned back with a steaming cup in his hand. "Breakfast?" he asked.

"That's our breakfast?" she demanded. "You stocked up on ramen noodles?"

"Not all of us have unlimited cred cards."

Her face burned, remembering her time on the stand. Angrily, she took the cup. "So! We're going against an unstable bounty hunter, arming ourselves with whatever discount technology you got with bulk supplies of _ramen_?"

He thrust his fist at her. A scope unfolded from his wrist, followed by the mouth of a gun, and another, then a laser pointer and a mini heat-seeking missile.

"That's where all the budget went," he explained.

Ro stalled for a moment. The red laser blinded her. Finally, she asked, "Do I get one?"


	10. Lost

**ONE MONTH LATER  
METROPOLIS, FLORIDA**

"This city never ends!" Ro exclaimed, as Clarence navigated them through the towers at blinding speed. She went on. "We've crossed like six states now! Are we still in Metropolis?"

"Well, the eastern states _are_ small," Clarence said.

"Insane."

"You're just excited."

Were author's notes actually allowed, the author might have stopped to tell you that there's a new TZP archive at http / zetaproject dot freeservers dot com. However, author's notes are no longer allowed, so I guess you will have to find out about the archive some other way.

They'd been tracking Krick for over a month now. While they'd glimpsed him now and then, Ro had never gotten a chance to confront Zeta. For a while, she'd doubted whether Zeta was even with Krick and alive at all; but Clarence was sure. Clarence would not have made history breaking into Stonegate unless he was sure.

Ro huffed. "Flying at 160mph is just boring when you're not catching up."

"We're catching up!" Clarence snapped. He didn't like her chattering when he was in the zone. It was one of the many things that made him different from Zeta.

"There!"

Something was highlighted on the screen. Titus gradually slowed the cruiser, but it still felt as if they were braking too quickly. Ro strained against her seatbelt.

Finally, the street below them was no longer a blur. They could see a cloaked figure running exhaustedly through the late-night crowd. It was another Metahuman. Krick had been targeting those a lot lately.

"Alright," Clarence said briskly. "Krick's around here---"

Ro screamed before she knew what had happened. The cruiser was rocking violently. Electrical current pulsed over the windshield; mini bolts flashed on the console. Titus jerked at the controls but to no avail. He unfolded a joystick and punched the button.

It worked, thank God. The seats ejected them into the air, seemingly without a sound--- adrenaline blocked it all out as they watched the failing cruiser plummet toward the street, crashing violently. Their parachutes opened and lowered them toward the resulting traffic jam.

They were unstrapping themselves the moment their feet touched the ground, even before they had lost momentum. Titus activated his wrist gun, and Ro followed suit. She saw the flap of a cloak on a rooftop. It was gone before they could fire.

"I think he's onto us," Ro said dryly.

They started running.

**LATER  
SYRINGE FACTORY**

Cords stretched from every wall, dozens of them, all trailing across the floor toward one shimmering object. In the half-light, Zeta lay sprawled and weighted under them all. He felt the energy flowing into his system, feeding his expensive upgrades. He couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to. He was waiting for Krick.

Of course, there was always a considerable chance that Krick would _not_ return. In that case, Zeta would simply wait for someone else to find him. The moment they unplugged all of these cords, he would rise up with unexpected strength and erase all memory of him--- by destroying whoever had rescued him. Then…

Then, _what? _Zeta realized his plans did not extend far into the future. He would have to work on that.

Aside from powering up, he was still defragmenting. The latter was almost complete. Within a few hours, he found himself facing one final memory clip.

Zeta could not remember what he'd seen the last time he'd viewed a clip. It hadn't seemed very relevant. However, this one might be. He should make sure.

The clip was short. A fuzzy humanoid looked at him, eyes full of wonder. As the poor signal cleared, he got a better look at the subject. It was an adolescent, Caucasian male. _"What's it like being a robot?" _he asked.

_"Heavy."_

That last voice had been Zeta's own. The clip was over, but Zeta lingered on it for a moment. The way this boy looked at him seemed so… unique. In his past month of memories, Zeta had seen the indifferent gaze of Krick, the glowering gazes of their captives, and quite frequently, the fearful eyes of would-be victims. Yet no one had ever looked at him with this… admiration, this… slight twinge of greed. Zeta wondered who this person was, and why he'd ever come into contact with him.

He decided to save the memory.

Zeta cocked his head. Through the pounding of the factory, which he was filtering, he'd heard the a door open and close. The approaching footsteps were recognizable. Krick. Soon the bounty hunter rushed into view. He began to unplug Zeta.

"The new generator is not yet fully charged," said Zeta.

"We'll worry about it later," Krick replied. "New threat."

**MEANWHILE**

Clarence entered the factory and froze, leaning against the wall. Ro tried to run past him. He snatched her arm and threw her back behind him. She was always undermining him.

Anyway, he couldn't hear anything. Not anything useful, anyway. A constant pounding and whirring resonated all around them. This was a government building, manufacturing millions of needles for the masses in case of outbreaks, viral warfare, etc. Yet some of the automated machines weren't running. Why?

He cautiously ventured forward, motioning for Ro to follow, and thinking to himself that he knew the answer. Of course! Krick needed power for something. By shutting down half of the factory, he could take the same power without anyone noticing. After all, living human beings rarely frequented these places.

Stealing jobs from Americans, of course.

Clarence broke into a jog, then a run, with Ro keeping up. She really was a trooper. As they wove in and out of the machinery, he could… _sense…_ the closeness of his goal. Soon it was in his sight: An upgraded synthoid, buried under tons of metal cord.

The project that needed the power.

"Zee!" Ro exclaimed, her voice overflowing with joy. Clarence was not so easily assuaged, and reached to hold her back…

Something went terribly wrong. He glimpsed the ceiling. His world faded in and out. A moment later, Clarence bounced off the machinery with a sparking chest of damaged armor. He had no time to wonder if it had protected him, but instead, he returned fire.

Krick bounded out of the way--- how had he seen it coming? Clarence gritted his teeth when he saw the new pair of eyes built into Krick's skull. Knowing it might be the last thing he did, he rushed to meet the cyborg.

Ro hardly noticed all of this. She was totally absorbed by the sight of Zeta, her dear friend, whom she thought she would never see again. She climbed onto the mess of wires, jerking them out with all her strength. Zeta lay still, allowing her to do so.

"Zee," she said. "Listen to my voice…"

"My name is Infiltration and Tracking Unit Zeta."

_Tracking unit?_ Brushing the new name aside, she said, "I know who you are. I know better than you do. Search your old memories, Zeta. It's me, Ro!"

He simply stared as she furiously tucked at the cords that weighed him. Desperation filled her veins. "Rosalie Rowen! Think harder, Zee! Remember me!"

* * *

Clarence slammed into something again. His head throbbed. The synaptic controls he'd built into his armor took over, and raised his arms to defend from a ruthless blow from Krick. The cyborg had grown more violent--- he was no longer some modern gun-slinging cowboy. He was a weapon in himself. A metal arm tossed Clarence across the room again. He landed on a non-functional conveyor belt.

Glancing back at his robot, Krick only smirked at the sight of Ro. She was unwittingly orchestrating her doom. He strolled toward Clarence.

"I don't know who you are, friend," he sneered. "But all that means is that you aren't worth any money."

He looked back again. Ro had just wrenched a large plug out of Zeta's body. Knowing there was enough power now, Krick switched on the conveyor belt. Then he hopped onto it himself, watching as Clarence was transported further down the assembly line.

* * *

Ro realized the fighting behind her had stopped. She looked back and saw what was happening. Raising her arm, she fired a blast at the tray of half-finished needles descending toward her partner. It broke, and froze halfway down.

* * *

Clarence stared up at the needles that _would_ have uselessly punctured the first layer of his armor. So much for playing dead.

Krick had cursed and whirled on Ro. Clarence shot his back. The trench coat evaporated, and Krick's steel back hissed, repelling the laser. Krick whirled again just as the conveyor belt jolted both of them forward. The cyborg's boot stomped at Clarence; Clarence blocked it with his own boot and tripped his adversary, who fell from the conveyor belt to the floor.

Clarence jumped after him.

"Listen," Ro said as she turned back to Zeta. "You have to believe me--- Krick's not the good guy! Once I get free, you have to help us stop him."

More staring. She looked at him pleadingly.

"No heart palpitations detected," said Zeta. "You're telling the truth."

Ro worked harder to remove the plugs. Little did she know, it meant nothing to him.

Krick stood crookedly. Then a laugh grated past his lips. "Weak little human," he grunted.

_You are human,_ thought Clarence, as he ducked a punch. Then he wondered how true that was anymore. He found himself retreating under rapid fire--- two huge gun barrels had unfolded from Krick's chest.

_How many other components does he have that I don't know about?_

Clarence vaulted himself over the conveyor belt and rolled toward cover. Searing pain flashed in his ribs. Then he heard the sound of steel giving way for imploding blasts, and a momentous groan. A towering chunk of machinery descended with a crash.

Leaping to his feet, Clarence barely glanced at the result. He had an idea.

* * *

The explosion had not reached them. After ducking for just a moment, Ro went back to work. "Just a few more now," she told him, removing the last giant plug. The others were small.

Zeta sprang into action. The cords broke away, he towered over the girl, and his arms spread forth. Metal unfolded for metal, and soon his arms had become two giant weapons--- guns within guns. Every deadly mouth was aimed at Ro.

She fell to her knees, eyes full of hurt. "Zee?"

He studied her reaction for a split second. A second that saved her.

Across the factory was an explosive flash. It bleached the color from their very world, the sight from Ro's eyes, the signal from Zeta's mind. In the furious buzz, he detected a scream.

The scream belonged to Clarence, who stumbled backward from the chaos he'd created. The light went back to normal.

Under a giant soldering iron, Krick lay dead.

Zeta dashed across the factory to see for himself. Yes, all life had left his commander. He looked at the man who'd done it, a steaming mess of melted armor and damaged tissue.

Both raised their arms to shoot.

"No!" Ro screamed.

Three guns fired at once: Zeta's, at Clarence; Clarence's, at Zeta; and Ro's, at Clarence. For each of them, it had been an instinctive reaction.

Clarence's knees buckled. Zeta staggered back slightly. Then, horrified both at what she'd seen and done--- confused beyond acknowledging ---Ro ran to her dying partner.

Zeta watched.

"I'm sorry," she cried, staring into the damage. Her friend's armor had finally given way, and his chest was full of holes. She could hear his last gasps for breath. "Don't hate me. I didn't--- I'm sorry!" she sobbed. If only she knew his real name.

This man had saved her life. He'd risked everything to rescue her from Stonegate…

She finally found the zipper in his mask.

Ro cradled the man's head in the crick of her arm, and with great difficulty, wrenched the leather covering from his face. She blinked her tears away.

Pain-filled eyes looked up at her sorrowfully from an aging, contorted face. In disbelief, her heart hardened slightly. "Bennet!" she yelled.

Though he seemed to be trying, no sound escaped his lips. Agent James Bennet had no last words. He simply stopped breathing.

Suddenly, everything about him seemed frail and empty.

Ro felt sick. Her hand flew to her mouth, and somehow, she managed to gently lay him down again. Her weak body slumped away from his. Finally, another sob found her, tearing free from her lungs in guilt and mourning.

"Who was he?" asked Zeta.

Shuddering, Ro looked at him imploringly. "You really don't remember, Zee? You don't remember?"

"You've murdered your partner to protect me," Zeta said thoughtfully, "and your mourn that I, a creature of metal, have no memory of you. Never have I seen such behavior." He leveled his gun at her. "Explain this to me."

Hot, heavy tears flowed from her eyes. "I love you, Zeta."

He didn't flinch. There was no commenced fire, no comical tilt of the head as if he were trying oh-so-hard to grasp her logic. He did nothing she would have expected him to do, and yet she still watched him, hoping and aching for some glimpse of her friend.

Finally, he said, "I cannot leave evidence of my existence behind. Not even in a memory."

Her brows furrowed. For some reason, her heart was pounding with fear.

"I will take you from your misery." His guns powered up.


	11. Analyzing the Golem

A blast of wind filled the factory. Ro shielded herself as something blew past her, colliding with Zeta. Suddenly the synthoid was several yards away. A man in black ripped his arms off.

"Don't!" Ro shouted. "Don't hurt him!"

Again Zeta looked at her curiously, and her rescuer turned with an incredulous look. She gasped at the sight of the silver pendant. Superman!

The two-second distraction was long enough. Cords whipped from Zeta's arm sockets, pulling the disconnected limbs back to his body. Superman turned and delivered a punch. Even as the dented Zeta sailed backward, his guns fired. Superman took the lasers in his chest, even dashing from one side to another in order to take those meant for Ro.

Ro was trying to be heard over the ruckus. "Please, stop!" She even fired her own gun into the air. "Stop it!"

"I can only protect you so long," said Superman. "What's going on?" His eyes glowed red and a pair of laser beams streaked after Zeta.

Ro had no idea how to explain this.

Zeta was damaged, and he knew he couldn't fight Superman. He retreated instead. Superman, knowing he could catch up in a moment, allowed him to run. He looked at Ro, a regal brow arched. "Well?"

"He won't hurt anybody as long as they don't see him," she said. "It's in his programming. He wants to stay hidden."

"And what makes you so sure?" Superman asked.

Ro's shoulders slumped. She stared after the way Zeta had gone, saying simply, "I was the accomplice."

**LATER  
JLU WATCHTOWER VII**

"Sounds like a wild story to me," Barda huffed, her stocky arms folded tightly.

Of course, Superman was abounding in mercy. "I believe her," he said. "Give her a chance."

Barda and Warhawk looked at one another, shaking their heads. They walked away together, one muttering, "It's his same old song."

Rosalie Rowen must have known she was one of the few non-Justice Leaguers--- perhaps the only fugitive ---to enter any one of the Watchtowers. This was only one of their earth stations, but she still felt intimidated by the bright halls and reinforced barriers. She had been taken into the innermost room of the tower. Perhaps it was for her protection, but just the same, it could also have been to prevent her escape.

A fair-haired woman in black strolled in. Ro racked her memory for a name. Oh yes--- Aquagirl. The small-time heroine looked at her compassionately. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Like a million creds." Ro buried her face in her hands. "What do you _think_?"

"Sorry." Aquagirl sat at Ro's side, a comforting hand on her shoulder. Ro was tempted to shrug it off… but it had been so long since she'd felt a loving touch. She allowed Aquagirl to sit with her while the rest of the League debated grimly. Their words hardly registered with her.

She kept seeing Bennet's face in her mind.

"My apologies, but I cannot be bothered with a single robot right now," said Green Lantern. "There are rumors of an uprising on Merulon V. I must go soon."

"Don't let something like Zeta keep you," said a new voice.

Maybe it was the sound of that voice, or maybe it was the surprised reaction of the League; but somehow it struck some chord in Ro. She looked up, as did everyone else. Batman stepped into the light.

Superman shook his hand. "Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for leaving the door open," Batman replied.

"No problem," Superman chuckled. "The other Batman---"

Batman cleared his throat, interrupting. He nodded subtly at Ro, indicating he wanted her to know as little as possible. She curled her lip at him.

Green Lantern made a hasty farewell, glowing, alighting, and flashing away. Batman approached Ro and Aquagirl. "Marina," he said with a nod.

"It's good to see you again," replied Aquagirl.

"Do you mind?" he asked. It wasn't out of courtesy.

Aquagirl seemed slightly taken aback, but she understood. Her bare feet carried her softly from the room. Now it was just Ro, Batman, and Superman. Ro thought that unnecessary and chauvinistic--- why make Aquagirl leave?

"I'd talk to you alone," Batman said, as if reading her thoughts, "but the less we have to explain to _him_ later, the better." He jerked his head at Superman.

"Whatever," Ro muttered.

"I hear you killed Bennet," said Batman.

Did he have any tact? She swallowed hard. "I didn't mean to," she said. "But then, I did." She looked up at Batman, struggling to stay invulnerable. "And he killed Krick… none of this sounds like Bennet at all. He was always so… gung-ho 'American-way'!"

"Not long after your arrest, he was severely demoted in the agency," said Batman. "I guess they thought their top agent didn't deserve to be a leader, after how long one robot and a kid evaded him. He stuck out his new job for a few months, but then he quit. Days later, he disappeared. Didn't even contact his wife and son."

"All to stop 'Zeta'," Ro said bitterly. She almost added, _Maybe I should have let him._ The thought filled her with horror. Had her loyalties changed as radically as Bennet's?

Batman crouched down in front of her. "Zeta's been reprogrammed. What made you think you could save him?"

She almost lashed out; but then she realized his question was sincere. He wanted to understand. "Zee was reprogrammed once before," she explained. "But he managed to transfer all of his memories onto another drive. I was the key to unlocking them. As soon as he heard my voice…" Now, she was struggling to keep that same voice from choking. "He remembered everything again."

"But it didn't work this time," Batman finished.

"No. I don't know why." Ro's fists clenched. "Krick did something to him! If he were alive, we could find out what…"

She was interrupted by a beep on the intercom. Superman turned to one side, a hand over his ear. "Superman here."

"It's Barda," was the voice. "The mayor granted you the favor of examining Bennet's aircraft. I'm bringing it in now, Hangar Seven."

**LATER  
JLU HANGAR 7**

The aircraft was a total mess. It looked like it had been on fire at one point. Most of Ro's and Bennet's supplies had been destroyed, and the computer wasn't functional. Batman worked on salvaging whatever data remained while Ro and Superman collected the last of Bennet's things.

Superman frowned at his pocket computer. "This disk was along Bennet's belongings," he said, "but it seems to be locked. Even the JLU code breaker is having some trouble with it."

"Bennet was an exceptional agent," Batman called over his shoulder. "Even I'll admit he didn't deserve that demotion."

Ro took the disk from Superman and slipped it into her pocket.

"Here's the backup," said Batman, rising. He plugged it into Superman's computer, and a holographic screen flashed into the air. The three of them stared at its pale light as Superman perused the files.

"Zeta's semantics."

The grid popped up before them. Ro stared at it, feeling a pang of loneliness for her old friend. "Bennet must have scanned him during the first reprogramming," she said. "The one he survived."

Superman pointed to an area in Zeta's head. "What's this?"

"Must be the conscience chip. His creator secretly planted it there. It was what caused him to rebel in the first place."

"Of course," Batman muttered. "I'd always wondered how a program could rebel against itself. It was with another program."

Superman frowned thoughtfully. A few moments later, they noticed his troubled expression. "What is it?" asked Ro.

"I scanned Zeta's interior mechanics while I was fighting him," he explained. "I was looking for weak spots. I could be wrong, but I don't think that chip was there."

Adrenaline flooded Ro's system. "The conscience chip is missing?" She could barely understand her own words. "That was it! That was the problem! Krick removed his conscience chip!"

"So the question is, where is it now?" Batman asked.

Ro gritted her teeth. "I'd bet my right leg, it's with Herman."

**ONE HOUR LATER  
DAKOTA CITY**

It had been a long time. From the back seat of the Batmobile, Ro peered through the small infrared window at the city below. She had once navigated those alleys with Garret--- wherever the snake was now. Ro hoped desperately that Herman hadn't relocated. It was one of those moments when she wished she had Someone to pray to.

"There!" she cried, pointing.

In the seat before her, Batman gently eased his controls to one side. The hovercar soared over the place she had indicated. A precautionary sweep. Then he stopped at the end of the block.

"I'll wait here for a while," he told her, as the cockpit slid open.

Ro pulled the leather mask over her face. It distorted her voice. "I'm telling you," she said, "this is my fight. I can handle it from here."

"Sure," Batman said dryly. Once her feet touched the ground, the cockpit slid closed, and the entire Batmobile rippled and faded. It had gone completely invisible.

Ro marched cautiously toward the cellar doors.

Two holes appeared in the street. A pair of guns arose from them, aiming at her. Ro shot one while ducking. She felt a red laser graze the armor on her back. As quickly as Bennet had trained her, she shot the remaining gun. It popped and smoked.

"Told you so, Batman," she muttered.

She charged the cellar doors and shot them open. Then, stomping down the crude stairs, she jumped into the nightmarish room she remembered so well. Herman had just turned from his monitors to face her. He was slow. Her gun pressed against his forehead.

"You're holding something that belonged to the late Roden Krick. Hand it over."


	12. Pieta Signore

A/N: For the full experience, read this chapter while listening to the classical song, "Pieta Signore."

**FOUR MONTHS LATER  
****SUWALKI, POLAND**

Europe had always prided itself in being different from America. Unlike certain former corporate leaders of the free world, the countries of Europe didn't tear a building down once it got a little rickety. Centuries ago, they had built things to last. Medieval and renaissance buildings still towered in the narrow stone streets of the city. Now, however, there were holographic street signs hanging from their corners, and hovercars often obstructed them from view.

_Oh well,_ Rosalie thought, pulling Bennet's leather mask over her face. She was an armored, sexless being now, with only one mission: find Zeta. She hardened her heart against thoughts of the past. Sentiment only got in the way. She had to do her job, before the synthoid rationalized killing… again.

_Slag it, Ro. You're sounding more like old Bennet all the time._

She appreciated Batman and the Justice League butting out. Judging by Superman's past actions, however, Ro knew that the moment this got out of hand he would not respect her mission. He would step in with his self-righteous justification and maybe destroy Zeta, maybe even drag her off to prison again. He seemed to take Batman's word for it, that she wasn't really a traitor, but relations between Batman and Superman had always seemed rather… like a rivalry. Ro didn't understand all the intimacies. She just knew she was on thin ice.

Ro swung down the side of the building and crawled inside. The rafters were dark and dusty, making her feel more confident as she quietly crept between shafts of light. Below were a few thousand people, an amphitheater, and the ear-splitting cries of a singer. _Ugh. Opera._

She stopped, letting the dust settle around her. He was supposed to be up here somewhere… where was he?

Pain clutched her throat. A second later she was being slammed against a wall. For a moment, the singing below sounded like how she felt. Then all sound faded. She couldn't breathe. She barely comprehended that Zeta stood before her. It was his fingers around her neck.

"Why did you call me here?" asked Zeta, although the words barely registered for her. She wondered when he'd realize she couldn't answer…

The metal hand retracted suddenly. With a gasp, she fell forward, coughing and wheezing. Zeta stood over her in wait of recovery.

"You…" Her throat was scratchy. It hurt so much… why was this familiar? "To tell you… Your name is Infiltration Unit Zeta. You probably don't remember, but you used to be a government robot. Designed to replace and destroy. You disobeyed orders."

"You're lying. That's impossible."

"No, it's not. Years later we found out why. Do you want to _know_ why?"

"I am a synthoid. I do not understand what 'want' is. I only know you have been following me for many months now, and that makes you a threat."

"I've never tried to hurt you," said Ro quickly. "I can give you a purpose! Don't you want to know what it is?"

"As I said, 'want'---"

"All these months you've been wandering around without knowing where you're going or where you came from. You just look out for yourself and do whatever it takes to survive. Even if it means hurting others." How familiar _that_ sounded.

Zeta stepped forward, intimidating. If she'd planned on running, she sure couldn't now. This was her last chance to persuade him. "I have asked before," he said. "Why do my actions affect you so?"

"Because…" Her throat gave out again. She removed her mask, letting him see her real face, hear her real voice. "That used to be me, once. You saved me from that. So I sort of owe you one, see?"

Zeta tilted his head. She almost smiled at the familiar expression. "Like revenge," he said slowly. "But with opposite results."

Ro nodded. _Figures that he can understand _revenge,she thought bitterly. "You see, we had that in common. Neither of us really knew where we came from. We were helping each other discover…"

"Using each other," he elaborated.

"No, not---" She sighed, frustrated. "Love isn't like that, Zee. Love is when you give your all for somebody else, all for their benefit, no matter what it costs you. It just happens to give back sometimes."

When had she figured _that_ out?

"I have no capacity for what you are saying," said Zeta. "You seem to imply that we… 'loved' each other?"

_I loved _you_, anyway,_ she thought hopelessly. She looked up at Zeta's hardened face. "Yes, we loved each other."

His eyes focused more narrowly. "You do not really believe that."

"I have my doubts sometimes," she said quickly. "Listen…"

"I have a memory," Zeta interrupted. "There was a boy, who looked at me without hatred or fear. He asked me, 'What's it like to be a robot?'"

"Was his name Garret?" Ro guessed.

"I do not know his name. He wore a metal breastplate that was too large for him."

Without warning, the image popped into her head, stunning her. "Plug!" she spat. "Did he have brownish hair, a skinny build? There were computers behind him?"

"Yes," Zeta said, seeming more trusting of her now.

Ro hoped desperately the robot would believe her. "He didn't love you, Zee. He wanted to dismantle you and wear your parts."

"Why?"

"Just like his question told you… he wanted to be a robot. Thought it would be schway."

"Yes… this makes sense to me," Zeta said thoughtfully. "But there is still an inconsistency in your story. I am missing no parts, yet you say I once had a capacity for things I cannot comprehend now. How do you explain this?"

Ro swallowed hard. "Maybe you aren't missing parts. But you're less than what you once were." She reached slowly into her belt and held up the conscience chip._ Oh, please don't destroy it._ "This is what made it possible for you to rebel. This is what made you understand things like love."

"You could be lying. It could cause me to malfunction and self-destruct."

"Look into my eyes, Zee!" she pleaded. "Forget about Plug and see how _I'm _looking at you! This is love! Love doesn't hurt people!"

But Zeta didn't move or respond. His tall metal body was so stoic and cold. She dreamed of seeing that hologram flicker to life, that soft and gentle Zee appearing. But that never happened.

Another step forward. If only his metal face were easier to read. "You called me a person," he noted with obvious curiosity.

"I'm the only one who ever believed you _were_ a person." Ro had been fighting tears. Then she realized they were to her benefit. After all, if she loved him, she could cry for him, couldn't she? Had she ever? Now the hot tears welled up in her eyes and spilled free. She remembered crying after murdering Bennet. She remembered the first time she'd explained her actions. _I love you, Zeta._ But that had been different. Those tears had been selfish. She'd wanted her Zee back, not to mention she'd hated herself for what she'd just done. Now, though… it was just the fear that Zeta would choose to run off on the same destructive path, killing people until he too was killed. She didn't want that to happen to him.

Zeta held out his hand. "I will take that risk."

Her heart started pattering. With trembling fingers, she dropped the conscience chip into his palm. His fingers closed over it, and he stepped backward, kneeling. The buzz saw sprang from his wrist.

Ro fell against the wall again, watching weakly as he raised the saw to his own head. There was a sudden, deafening shriek of metal that drowned out the opera music, and a shower of sparks filled the air. They landed on some dust, and the flame swept through the rafters. Ro hurried to stomp them out.

Zeta kept working. He was prying his head open now. She glanced back at him for a moment, and realized his self-preservation instincts had surmised that the fire wouldn't hurt _him,_ so who cared? The harsh, licking flames grew out of control. The opera patrons below were starting to smell the smoke, starting to panic. Ro was dangerously close to it.

He didn't care.

She gave up and stepped away from the fire. Pulling the mask over her head again, she breathed the oxygenized air and watched Zeta's work. She could see the gears moving inside his skull. With leisurely precision, Zeta raised the conscience chip and planted it inside.

An electric flash filled the air. He started convulsing. It was worse than watching the servo inhibitor attack his motor functions. His limbs were splaying wildly, and he fell onto his back as if having a seizure. Ro screamed something, she couldn't remember what.

Why was this happening? The chip wasn't supposed to break him! Herman, she realized. He must have tampered with the chip!

If Zeta survived he would surely kill her. She didn't care. She rushed to his side and tried to touch him. The electric shock sent her reeling backward. She landed in the fire. Her armor was partially flame retardant, but the heat was overbearing… and the shock had messed up her nerves… and Zeta was still buzzing and flashing somewhere over there…


	13. Restoration

A/N: Sorry about the mistakes in the last chapter. They fixed now.

**THE NEXT DAY  
HOSPITAL**

Muffled noise. Then Ro realized it was exploding.

She awoke when the gurney rattled, jostling her body from side to side. She was being pushed speedily down a hallway, lights and doors and screaming nurses whooshing past her. This had happened once before; but something was very different now. Something wrong.

Another noise like the last--- only now it was deafening! Ro recognized the sound of a laser just as she saw it blasting over her head. The door in front of her was blown open. Somebody cursed in Czech.

"Aaah!" Ro screamed. She tried to push herself up on one arm, only to realize it was the arm she'd touched Zeta with in the opera house--- the arm that had been shocked and burned. It had been operated on, apparently, and was wrapped in thick bandages. Sucking her lip to keep from crying, she twisted around to see who was wheeling her.

A flutter of hope and despair collided in her being. _Zee!_

The robot fired a laser again. More screams and crying in foreign tongues. Two armed guards appeared. Ro screamed again as Zeta tipped over the gurney, pulling her behind it as it became a barricade.

"Reprogramming is complete," he told her.

"What?" she asked, staring at the partially-fused gap in his head. Laser fire drowned her words. It was darting between Zeta and the guards.

Zeta tossed a grenade. Orange fury filled the hallway for a moment.

"What are you doing!" Ro shrieked. She grabbed Zeta's arm. "Stop it! This is a hospital! Those people have husbands and wives and children!"

Zeta froze suddenly. His pale eyes turned to meet hers. "I understand what you meant about this conscience chip."

His arms went around her waist. As she protested and blurted questions, Zeta jumped to his feet, carrying her through another hallway. They burst into a waiting room, straight toward another pair of doors Zeta blasted open.

They bounded across the sidewalk. A van waited in front of them. Zeta tossed Ro inside and slammed the door shut, jumping into the driver's seat.

"It took me a moment to adjust to the recalibrations, but I'm alright now." He glanced back at her. "Are you alright?"

Ro looked at her hospital gown, felt her head, examined the arm that had been operated on. She lay numbly on the van floor for a moment. "I guess so."

Zeta drove them to safety.

**LATER  
POLISH RESTAURANT**

"The convulsions were part of my reprogramming," Zeta explained. "It must have happened the first time the chip was planted, as well. Were you present for that?"  
"No, Zee. I met you months later." Looking up from the food she was engulfing, she studied his dull hologram with scrutiny. It certainly wasn't anything like Zee, proving that he'd forgotten everything about their time together. She would have to help him rebuild his old look. "So you're really alright?"

"I'm fine," Zeta said. His voice was back to its smooth, mellow tone. She was so glad to hear it. A smile crossed her face. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I'm thinking of the last time we talked like this," she murmured. "You were telling me some stupid parable or simile or whatever. You were always shoving random facts down my throat."

"Don't worry. I've forgotten those things now. You won't have to worry about them ever again."

"Well, then you'd better start reeducating yourself!" she declared.

"But…" Zeta stammered. "I thought it annoyed you."

"It does."

"I don't understand."

Ro laughed to herself. It was just like old times. "Don't worry about it," she assured him, going back to her food. "Just tell me stories again someday. Okay, Daddy?"

Zeta tilted his head at being called _Daddy._ "Okay," he said finally. Then he surprised her. "I don't know any stories, but over the past few months, I have observed something very interesting…"

"Oh?"

"As I've mentioned several times, I am a machine, fueled by specially harnessed energy. I need this energy in order to continue existence. Likewise, humans need food and water to 'refuel' --- but you are more than a body. Love is proof of this."

"Okay, so?" Ro asked, delighted to be annoyed once again.

"Something keeps your soul running. What is it?"

"Uh," Ro stammered, finding herself in the role of teacher now. "I don't know."

"Neither do I… not completely, anyway. I must hypothesize that there is a seemingly unlimited power source somewhere--- spiritual, and therefore a Person ---who sustains you."

Ro quirked a brow. Already they were picking up on their last real conversation! "God," she said doubtfully.

"I suppose so," said Zeta, his stiff hologram finally smiling. "Someone exists so that you can."

Ro sighed. "Did I ever mention the stupid story you were telling me…?"

**SMALL TOWN CHAPEL  
****MARYLAND, USA**

The solitude. So often, Ro had used solitude to think about how she might gain back Zeta… but now that problem was solved. What to do with herself?

She was sitting in a church. Quiet, middle of the night, unlocked. A great place to think, really, as it was so peaceful and comforting. Ro refused to acknowledge the fact that, maybe, she was here because of something Zeta had said. H'm. It used to be that _his_ soul was the one she always worried about…

"Can I help you?"

Ro jumped from the pew in a panic. A young man stood behind her, perhaps in his early twenties. "Why would I need your help?" Ro asked indignantly. "I'm having some time to myself in a church, is that a crime?"

"Uh," the guy stammered, "it's just that I was studying nextdoor and I saw the light. If you'd like to pray by yourself, though…"  
"I wasn't praying," she said quickly.

He looked like a cornered mouse, only made more nervous by her snapping. Pitying him now, Ro relaxed slightly. She sat down again. "I've got a lot to think about. People I've hurt." Bennet's last moments came to mind. Then James Jr., and Mrs. Bennet, whom she'd never met. Putting up a strong front, she continued, "I'm gonna make it right."

_Somehow._

"Well…" Quietly, the man walked up next to her. Nodding at the cross over the altar, he said, "The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, you know. He was bruised for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities…"

"What are you, a preacher or something?" she asked irritably. This guy didn't have any right to quote Scripture to her, he didn't even _know_ her, or her problem.

The guy smiled awkwardly, regretfully. "Actually, I _am_ a pastor."

"Oh!" Ro blinked. For some reason she felt very suddenly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I… you look…"

"Young." He nodded with a bashful smile. "It's okay."

He couldn't have preached more than three sermons in his whole life. Still, she felt obligated to listen to him now. He got paid for this sort of thing, didn't he?

He cleared his throat. "I'm Pastor John."

"I'm… Ro," she said, hoping he wouldn't realize she was a fugitive at large.

"Would you like to talk about your problem?" he asked.

No, no she would not. "It's complicated." In the bashful silence that followed, she tried to comprehend what the pastor had been saying. "How can, uh, God fix us when he's broken?" She pointed at the cross to demonstrate.

"Well." The man stammered again. He sat down next to her. "Actually, the other day I had this really bad stain in my dress shirt and, hah, I actually had to call my mom to ask how to get it out, but she said bleach would be fine, so… I scrubbed in some bleach, washed the shirt, and the stain came out."

Ro had been nodding politely, but despite herself, she now gave him a look of incredulous condescension. His face turned red, and he smiled.

"Jesus is like bleach," he explained. "He became sin… got right into our stain… so that He could take it away. Like you put it, He was broken. Now he's just---" the man laughed nervously at his own wit--- "waiting for us to call and ask for help."

Ro wondered to herself what she was doing here. While the man watched for a response, she stared blankly at the altar. What were altars for, anyway? Why would God, if He was so big, wait for her to call? Couldn't He plainly see all those times she'd needed help?

She must have muttered some of that outloud, for John was answering. "Uh, well---" he said "well" a lot--- "He waits for us to call before He washes us, but… He's always calling us to call Him."

She laughed softly to herself.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I'm not very good with illustrations. I should just say it the way God did instead of trying to be clever." He paused. "Uh, in the book of Joel… Joel was written during a time when the land was being ravaged by locusts. That's like our sin. It ruins us on the outside and eats away on the inside."

Ro wished he'd leave. She didn't like the word _sin…_ somehow it brought Bennet's dying face to mind.

John was oblivious to her discomfort. "But my favorite verse in Joel is in Chapter 2, verse 12 and 25: _'Even now… return to Me with all your heart… I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten.'"_

Return? Didn't returning imply that you had once been there, before going astray? _The golem was never seen again._ Zeta's stupid story… how he thought the golem was like humanity…

Pastor John was still talking. "And as it says in 1 John 1:9, _'If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and purify us from all unrighteousness.'_"

"Why?" Ro asked distractedly. She really wished he would leave so that she could figure this out.

"Because He already died for you."

_Bennet didn't know he was going to die for Zeta. Why would God die for me?_

Ro stood up slowly. Something was itching and crawling in the back of her mind, something he'd said earlier. It writhed in her head, so distracting that she didn't even realize she was wandering away without a good-bye, now stepping out under the night sky.

Zeta was waiting down the walkway in a new car. Like old times. After all that had happened between them, they were together again.

She didn't go straight to him, though. She stopped, and tilted her head back. The small town's lights couldn't hide the dazzling galaxy of stars above her. The confused thoughts still whirled in her mind--- all that Zeta had said to her and to Garret. Herman's grand design theory. The golem that ran away. Her own words, professing selfless, sacrificial love to someone who did not care. _I can give you a purpose! Don't you want to know what it is? …All these months you've been wandering around without knowing where you're going or where you came from._

Out of her own mouth! Really? Had those all been divine hints, or coincidences? Was the spiritual power source waiting for a phone call? Was she seriously _thinking_ this!

"G… God," she blurted. "Did _you _do all this? Taking away Zeta and showing me how much I love him and slag to… go after him, no matter the cost… did you do that to show me? _Your _love?"

She had never felt loved by God. Never. But then, sometimes she wondered if Zeta felt loved by her, and… No, she couldn't be thinking these things. Ha! It was stupid!

"Did I go through all that _torture _just so I'd end up in this little church because you wanted that guy to tell me about You?"

What did she want the answer to be?

Ro found she didn't know whether to be angry at herself, or angry at God if she believed… or touched.

The stars only twinkled. _What are you going to do about it?_

* * *

It Is Finished


	14. Afterword

EPILOGUE

Awww, thanks for the great ride, you guys. I seem to have tugged at your heartstrings with this story. You poor shippers. Contrary to what evidence may suggest, I do not write this purely to torture you--- that's just a byproduct, albeit a very amusing one. Heh heh.

Take Iglika, for instance. Her reviews _look_ short, but what none of you realize is that she sends me long E-mails pointing out my mistakes, thanking me for writing, and begging me not to kill Zee (or make him a murderer). Best reviewer in the world, that Iglika, even though I usually don't listen to her.

My point is, although I did sort of enjoy making you guys suffer with the cliffhangers, that wasn't my purpose. Nor was it my purpose to leave you with the impression that Ro had converted to Christianity. Personally, I think that's one liberty that I shouldn't take with somebody else's character. No, the ending was meant only to make you decide for yourself, and maybe reflect on what you would do in that situation.

Here's a short version of the story, along with a few quotes that helped inspire it.

"_Where is your creator, Ro? …No… your designer."_  
-Zeta

"The loss of faith always occurs when the senses first awaken. At this critical moment, when nature claims us for her service, the consciousness of spiritual things is, in most cases, either eclipsed or totally destroyed. It is not reason which turns the young man from God; it is the flesh. Skepticism but provides him with the excuses for the new life he is leading."  
--Augustine

"…_The machine keeps the guy's brain running, but his soul is gone."_  
-Krick

"Strictly speaking, if we were mere animals, there should be no reason for love or hate. Not a single gland in our bodies to program it that way. Lust, certainly, is gland driven. Anger, fear--- adrenaline driven. But the hollowness that comes with lost love? …Where would such an idiotic, self-destructive impulse fit in the human body if not forced upon us by a soul?"  
--Sigmund Brouwer, _Out of the Shadows_

"_Well, this here is a complicated machine. You can't just throw it together and expect it to work. If we're that much _more_ complicated, then--- so the theory goes ---someone had to have built us, too."_  
-Herman

"Science without religion is lame. Religion without science is blind."  
--Albert Einstein

"_I don't know how you can still be alive, Miss Rowen._"  
-Dakota City doctor

"But if there is a God, the communist knows he will not fare well before Him. Or that God will make demands on him he does not wish to fulfill. Perhaps this is what you fear? …Never believe a man who says God no longer does miracles, Ben. But never believe a man who says God must do a miracle the way a man wants him to. God is God."  
--Randy Alcorn, _Safely Home_

"_Survival of the fittest. The strong preying upon the weak, instead of helping them. Bucky was too much of a scientist sometimes."_

"We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy is when men are afraid of the light."  
--Plato

"_Do not let me die down here! Oh, please, don't let me die!"  
_--Ro

When I was a kid, my family would visit a nursing home once a month. It was boring and slightly awkward, as those things usually are for preteens. However, we did make friends, including a dear lady named Hulda. She kept many stuffed animals, had beautiful manicured nails, and had lived a good life doing good deeds. Eventually, of course, death caught up to her. Before I knew it she was in the hospital, hooked up to a machine while her lungs filled with fluid. There were tubes in her nose, and her breathing sounded like a coffee maker. Hulda was dying.

My dad visited often, although I only went once. He recalls that he always asked her, "Hulda, do you want to talk about Jesus?"

"Oh no, pastor," she would gargle. "I don't need him."

One evening, however, something filled Hulda with stark terror. There had been no warning. Suddenly she was clinging to her neice's hand in total fear of the afterlife, and she refused to let go, not even to let her niece go to the bathroom. Late into the night, her voice echoed down the hospital corridors. She was calling for my dad.

At 3 AM, one of the nurses finally gave in and phoned him. He immediately drove to the hospital. He walked into Hulda's room. And, for the last time, he asked the question: "Hulda, do you want to talk about Jesus?"

"Yes," she said tearfully.

Hulda died that night. Our family was asked to sing at her memorial service, although Hulda's sister made it clear that she did not want my father to preach. Unfortunately for her, she did give him permission to _speak_. He related what had happened that night in the hospital room.

Hulda, that sweet old lady, that good student, hard worker, lovely young woman… had been _afraid_ of meeting God. She'd realized that, yes, she had done some good things, but she had not been perfect. (None of us are perfect, right?) Good as she was, she had still sinned. She had still needed forgiveness.

"_For all have sinned and are fallen short of the glory of God… for the wages of sin is death…"  
_–Romans 3:23, 6:23

On her last night on earth, Hulda gave her heart to Jesus Christ. She and my father sang "Jesus Loves Me" together as her grip finally loosened on her poor niece's hand. She was gone not long after that. Finally at peace.

"_If you confess with your mouth, 'Jesus is Lord,' and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved."  
_--Romans 10:9

"_You've murdered your partner to protect me, and your mourn that I, a creature of metal, have no memory of you. Never have I seen such behavior. Explain this to me."  
_-Zeta

What a weird turn of events. I had not intended to kill off Clarence/Bennet at all. It just sort of happened and, I think, it worked out for the best. Ro calls for Zeta, who doesn't remember her and even tries to kill her, yet even so she shoots Bennet for his sake. Simply because: "I love you, Zeta." I know this isn't a perfect allegory, because Ro is not Zeta's creator. In a sense, however, Ro did create the lovable character we know as "Zee." She adores him. She's risked her life for him. Now, she's killed for him too.

The following is the most famous passage in all of Scripture. Sadly enough, only 3 of American citizens are familiar with it.

"_For God so loved the world, that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."  
_--John 3:16

Whether you believe this or not out of my hands. But did you ever stop to think about how radical that passage is? How it's almost beyond comprehension? Look at it phrase by phrase.

_"For God so loved the world…"_ the broken world that betrayed Him, that curses Him daily without a second thought, that has fallen into sin and bloodshed. _That_ world. You and me. God _loves_ us despite our obvious flaws.

_"That He gave His only Son…"_ Jesus Christ. Some of you have children. You know how difficult to impossible it would be to send your child to die, and for an enemy at that. I do not believe it was easy for Jesus to go to the cross, nor was it easy for God to send Him there. Why would they do this? Because "God so loved."

_"That whoever believes in Him should not perish..." _In later passages, the Bible speaks of the symbolism of death. Death of the body is nothing, really, especially since our bodies break down so quickly and easily. Death of the soul is quite another thing. To be blunt, death of the soul is called hell.

So again, in context: God loved you, and sent His Son to die for you, so you wouldn't have to go to hell _"…but have eternal life."_

What is eternal life? Again, it doesn't have much to do with the body. According to this verse, even the Son of God died. Obviously it's not the body that goes on forever, but the soul, and God desires for us to be with Him in perfect paradise. Whatever good there is on earth is only "a shadow of the things to come."

"Just to be with you, I did everything. There's no price I did not pay. Just to be with you, I gave everything… yes, I gave my life away."  
--Third Day, _Just to Be with You_

"_I can give you a purpose! Don't you want to know what it is? …All these months you've been wandering around without knowing where you're going or where you came from."  
_--Ro

I know how much many of you love Zee. After seeing how loyal you are to him years after TZP's cancellation, I imagine you felt the same way that Ro did when she pleaded for him to reconcile. You longed for him to understand love and purpose again.

God desires the same thing for you.

Can you imagine the selfless love it would take to set aside unlimited power, humble yourself as a servant to slaves, and then die in such a horrific way? God's tears for us are not the selfish tears of a girl who's lost her toy, but the heartrending tears of a Ro who fears her Zeta will run along on his destructive path, never to know his potential, never to be redeemed.

"I can give you a purpose!" He promises, just as in Jeremiah 29:11 where God says His plans are for your good, to give you hope. "Don't you want to know what it is?"

The average person will say, "I think I'm going to heaven." Well, being pretty sure does not compare to knowing for certain. I'm not God, so I can't tell you the condition of your heart, I can't tell you where you're going; but if you've read this epilogue carefully, then you can know for yourself.

"Christ waits to be wanted. Too bad that with many of us He waits so long, so very long, in vain."  
--C.S. Lewis

"_O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing."  
_--Jesus, in Matthew 23:37

"_He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in His arms and carries them close to His heart; He gently leads those that have young."  
_--Isaiah 40:11

"_Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Thought she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands…"  
_--Isaiah 49:15-16

"…_Surely the joy of mankind is withered away… Even now, declares the Lord, return to Me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning. Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the Lord your God, for He is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and He relents from sending calamity…"  
_--Joel 1:12, 2:12, 13


End file.
